


crushcrushcrush

by queenhomeslice



Series: crushcrushcrush [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxious Reader, Astrals - Freeform, Banter, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Clones, Crush, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Female Reader, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Food Issues, Friends to Lovers, Gods, Healers, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Manipulation, Marriage, POV Multiple, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape (mentioned), Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love, World of Ruin, chubby!reader, depressed reader, fat reader, medic reader, prompto is a switch, trying to defy fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: You are a Crownsguard member who is gifted with healing and elemental magic, and are personally chosen by King Regis himself to accompany Noctis & company to Altissia for his wedding to Lady Lunafreya of Tenebrae. You’ve been in the service of the crown since you were sixteen years old, training in potions and healing, so the boys are very familiar and friendly with you. However, there’s one blond Chocobro that you wish you were more than friends with.





	1. High School

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is loosely based on myself, because I think we all know by now how hard I have it for a certain freckled sharpshooter, and hopefully this doesn’t come across as too gratuitous or into the realm of “original character,” but I really wanted to try something realistic instead of a reader who’s described a typical video game girl, skinny and pretty and etc. (not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just, I have trouble seeing myself in a lot reader-insert fics, so I didn’t want to write someone that “all the boys want to have sex with 24/7” or whatever; so maybe this will appeal to a different audience who feels the same way). Reader has self-esteem issues, trouble losing weight due to a medical condition, general anxiety, and mild depression. The only “Mary Sue” thing about her is the Healer thing, which seems pretty congruent within the FF universe as a whole, so. (also the trope that the one girl in the party is the healer, but whatever) 
> 
> Title is inspired by Paramore, obviously. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.
> 
> UPDATE 3/20/19:  
> 1) Tags will be updated as chapters are added and new shit happens.  
> 2) This is NOT a weight loss story. Fat Reader stays fat and Prompto Argentum don't care NONE about your fat rolls cuz he's not a WEAK ASS BITCH, so fight me.  
> 3) I work a full-time job and ya girl also has other life stuff/mental health stuff happening, so...I don't know how many chapters this will have, so there's no rhyme or reason to my writing and I'm sorry. I write when I have an idea and when I have time. I didn't even plan for the story to go this far but...I'm just rolling with it at this point. So thanks for your patience in advance (TL;DR, there are NO regular scheduled updates on this. I post when I post, and I'm done when I'm done. I'm sorry y'all.)  
> 4) Suggestions and input are welcome, but I'm a perfectionist and I'd rather not do anything at all than do something badly, so if you make a suggestion and I outright say "Idk about that bro," then I probably won't write it. I'm sorry. I write what I know and what I'm comfortable with. I do not have a time outline or anything for this. I'll think of one line of dialogue or one plot idea for a chapter and just roll with it until I burn out. Thanks for understanding.  
> 5) This is rated Explicit for a reason. There is gratuitous smut, innuendo, dirty talk/teasing, light kinks, etc. If that ain't your thing then this might not be the reader-insert fic for you. Everyone else thirsty for Prompto dick, welcome.  
> 6) Self-esteem, mental illnesses, unhealthy relationships with food, and more are explored here, based off of my own experiences. So that could be triggering to some people, and I just wanna let y'all know that. Take care of yourselves. Reading my shit isn't worth a trigger.  
> 6) Uh. Thank you for reading! I just love Prompto, okay. I hope I do him justice here and I hope my fellow fat girls can maybe relate to this reader.  
> 7) This basically runs the length of the game, with some time-skips and flashbacks. So buckle in, there's a lotta words here.  
> 8) Reader is the same ethnicity as Noctis. Make of that what you will.

You’d known Prince Noctis since you were sixteen. He was usually a reserved, mysterious boy who rarely opened up, but he was friendly enough to you. You were part of his Crownsguard after all, gifted with the rare hint of healing magic that enhanced the already-potent properties of potions and Phoenix Downs and the like. You’d come from a region much farther south than the capital crown city of Insomnia, but you’d eventually lost most of your accent, only saying one or two words every so often with a distinct southern drawl. Your parents, ever patriotic, had contacted the legendary Cor Leonis himself upon realizing your talent and you’d been welcomed with open arms into the capitol military. You were transferred to the same elite private high school as the Prince and his entourage, Ignis and Gladiolus, and although you usually felt on the outside looking in, the young Retainer and Shield were always cordial to you, complimenting your talents and assets to the Kingdom of Lucis.  

You were in the same class as Noctis, as well as a bubbly, excitable boy you came to know as Prompto Argentum. He and the Prince were fast friends within a few months of your transferal, and you noticed a decisive change in Noct for the better, and it made you happy. Prompto, on the other hand, was another story altogether. You weren’t in the running for your class’s valedictorian by any stretch of the imagination, but you were smart enough, at least in the top 10%, and you were pretty good at language arts and reading. Prompto  _struggled_ with papers, and you, who consistently got top marks on essays, were assigned directly by your teachers  _and_ principal to tutor the blond, freckled boy. And that’s where the trouble started.  

There was already a new school and a new responsibility to something bigger than yourself to worry about; and now you, a plain-looking and heavy-set girl, was spending hours a week in the close company of a very attractive boy. You were almost thankful that the pale skin on your face was already pinkish in nature, because it helped to hide the obvious blush you got whenever class was over and you both holed up in the Citadel’s expansive library after school, language textbooks and laptops open in preparation for literature homework.  

 

“Ugh, ________, I just don’t get it,” Prompto whined for the third time.  

You sighed but the high octave in his voice made your heart clench a little. “It’s okay, Prompto. Here, let me explain the literary analysis of poetry a different way,” you said as you went on to expound upon such words as personification, iambic pentameter, similes, and metaphors. After several explanations, Prompto typed his answers into the online homework database and got back a “good” score of 91%.  

“Oh. Em. Gee. A ninety-one! That’s like...dude! You’re a genius! I  _never_ would have gotten that score on my own!” Prompto cried with glee as he threw his arms around your neck.  

You were thankful that he was caught up in his own passing grade enough to miss the full-body blush and shudder that wracked your frame when he touched you. He pulled back after several seconds and flipped the page to study the next assigned section.  

“Uh, yeah! Great job. See, you’re smarter than you think you are,” you said shyly as you typed your own answers into the computer. The next screen loaded and blipped back a “100%” at you, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself. Had you not chosen to be a Crownsguard healer, you definitely would’ve applied to be a librarian or Lucian lore archivist later in life. It’s one of the few things that you and Ignis bonded over.  

“Aw, man! But look, you keep getting hundreds. Ugh. Ugh! Dammit. How are you so good at this? And you know healing magic too, from what Noct’s told me. You’re an incredible girl, ________.”  

You looked down quickly and choked, your heart racing at the compliment.  _It's fine, it’s cool. He's like this with everyone. You’re not special._ “Oh, no, no! I’m not. I’m just a nerd. I’ve just always been good at writing. Here,” you continued, trying to focus on the task in front of you. “Have you started your research paper yet?” 

“Uh,” he said, grinning. “Yes?” 

“That’s a ‘no,’ got it.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence!” 

“I just think I know you by now, Prompto.” You leaned over him, taking his folder of language class notes to shuffle through and find his research paper outline.  

Your hand caught Prompto’s eye and he grabbed your wrist. 

Your heart stopped. “Hey, s-sorry! I was just going to look over your paper outline...” You tried to yank your hand back but he didn’t let go.  

“Your fingers...” His voice trailed as you bit your lip in embarrassment. Your fingers were raw around the cuticles, bloody and scabbed over in some places, because of your anxious habits. Your nails were short and cracked and unpainted. Your fingers, for all their healing properties, were a stark contrast to Prompto’s long, soft fingers, which were much more feminine than yours. Your fingers were short and chubby, like the rest of you, but...you couldn’t deny how nice they felt in his hands.  

“S-sorry. I know they’re ugly. I just...I pick and bite at them. Because anxiety.” His hold loosened and you yanked your hand away, quickly grabbing his folder and burying your flushed face in the papers.  

“________, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I think your hands are fine,” he said quietly. “They’re cute.” 

 _Shit._ _Prompto_ _. Stop._ You said nothing, letting the awkward silence fall away to eventually turning to him and talking about homework.  

Sometime later, his phone rang. “Y’ello!” he said brightly, stretching, and you snuck a look at his elongated form and tried not to notice the small flash of skin that showed when his untucked dress shirt rode up as he lifted one arm and leaned back in his chair. 

 _This is so bad._ “Prompto, you only have three paragraphs written so far. Get off the phone and focus!” You said in mock exasperation. Truthfully, you’d sit with him all night if it just meant being in close proximity to him.  

“It’s Ignis!” He said to you before speaking into the phone again. “Ugh, dude, please come save me. My tutor is a freakin’ slave driver. You’d think  _she_ was the teacher.” He giggled at you and winked.  

Your stomach dropped, hoping that he somehow missed the obvious heat that rose to your cheeks.  

“...Yeah. Yeah..., okay. Okay, thanks Iggy. See ya.” He pushed “end” and flung his phone on the table with flourish. “Ignis is on his way up here to escort you out and home, ________.” 

“Uh, yeah. Okay, cool. I guess it is pretty late. But hey, at least we got you caught up. You did really well today.” 

“You’re such a lifesaver, dude.” 

You smiled as you signed off on the weekly log that you showed to your teacher every Friday.  _And tomorrow is Friday,_ you thought.  _Which means I won’t see him all weekend. Unless...unless I ask him to hang out. But can I do that?_ You packed up your homework slowly. “Hey, uh, Prompto,” you started.  

“What is it?” 

“Would you, uh, want to...maybe. Um. Go to the arcade. Or get coffee. Or something. With me. On Saturday. I mean, as just friends. Hanging out. Or whatever.” You regretted it as soon as you said it. You weren’t even making eye contact with him but you were imagining the worst reaction. “S-sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sure you and Noct are hanging out or something. For, forget it.”  

He jumped up. “What, no! That’d be totally cool! We can definitely do something on Saturday. I’ll ask the guys, and Noct too! We can make it a royal outing!” 

You finally forced yourself to look at him and he was all toothy grin and red-tinged freckles, and you couldn’t help but smile back.  _Maybe it’s better to be in a group with him, anyway._  “Yeah, okay! Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be awkward.” 

Buddy, if anyone’s awkward, it’s me.” He laughed. “Of course we’re friends, right? I don’t think of you  _just_ as my tutor, y’know? Or like, as just a classmate. You’re wicked smart but you’re like, funny. And nice to be around. And you’re already a part of Noct’s Crownsguard, as a healer! That’s, like. Totes amaze. The next time I get a paper cut I know who to come to.” 

Before you could choke out a “thank you” at his compliments, the library door opened and Ignis strode through, followed by Gladio, and the prince himself, who nodded at you.  

You smiled at Noctis and his company. “Well, I’m not a miracle worker, but. Maybe he’ll pass language arts this year.” You turned over your shoulder and looked back at Prompto, who was trying to shove all of his schoolwork in his messenger bag with no rhyme or reason.  

“A valiant effort, _________, and one we all sincerely thank you for undertaking.” Ignis folded his arms.  

“Blondie, you sly dog, holed up in here, alone with a cute girl. I didn’t think you had it in you! Never would’ve expected it to be _________, though.” Gladio laughed.  

You almost had a heart attack. “I’m just gonna...go.” You avoided eye contact as you put your head down and attempted to escape.  

“Gladio, please. Your comments are misplaced and unwarranted,” Ignis chastised. “She’s been assigned, by the school, as Prompto’s personal tutor. A much-needed and valuable resource for him, to be sure.”  

“Hey, hey! I’m doing fine in science, math, and technology. I just can’t language. Formal language.” He folded his arms. “Poetry is hard, dude.”  

You snorted as you walked past them. “I can get home on my own, Ignis. It’s no problem.” You looked up at the tall, slender man. “You’re in charge of Noctis, not me. I’ll be fine.” 

“That may be true, ________, but as a gentleman and fellow Guard, I cannot allow a young woman to walk the dark alleys of Insomnia alone.” 

You bit your lip. “Well, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.” 

“Wait for me!” Prompto slung his bag around his shoulders and flung himself over Noctis. “I’m so starved, bro. What’s on the menu for dinner?” 

“Uh, whatever you have at your apartment,” Noctis deadpanned.  

“Oh, ouch! Ignis, buddy, I’m so hungry.” 

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Ignis guided everyone through the ancient doors of the library. 

“Shot down again. Third time’s a charm.” He turned to Gladio as he closed the door behind everyone. “Gladdy, dude. You gotta help me.” 

“Hmph. I’ll make you some cup noodles, if you want.” 

“That’s not  _real_ food!” Prompto cried as the group twisted and turned up and down hallways and stairwells to exit the vast palace.  

Finally, you all were walking out a common side entrance of the Citadel that was usually used by glaives and guards. Both Ignis’ and Gladio’s cars were parked right outside.  

Ignis turned. “Gladio, can I ask you to escort his Highness and Prompto home to their apartments. I shall see Miss ________ safely to her family. Noct, I will come by posthaste after I see our young healer home.” 

“Hogging her all to yourself, huh, Iggy? I see how it is.” Gladio winked at him.  

Ignis sighed, exasperated. He got in his driver’s seat as you turned around to wave goodbye to the others before getting in his spotless sports car. Placing your schoolbag on the floor, you shut the door and were buckling in when your head snapped up to find Ignis’ bright green eyes gazing at you quizzically from behind silver-framed glasses.  

“Um,” you said. “Is there...do I have something on my face?” 

“Quite a flush of embarrassment, if that’s what you mean.” He started his car and peeled away from the curb. 

“I don’t know what you mean. Or, I mean, I guess, I don’t know why Gladio keeps making those dumb comments. He’s so immature.” 

“Gladiolus will flirt with anything that walks, if you haven’t noticed.”  

“Yeah well, I wish he wouldn’t with me.” 

“Does it make you uncomfortable? I will surely have a word with him if that’s the case.” 

You sighed and gazed out of the window as the lights of Insomnia flashed by you and Ignis on the dark freeway. “It’s not that, it’s just...I’m not even pretty. So I don’t know what he keeps insinuating that anyone...especially any of y’all...would want to get me alone. For any reason.” You mumbled this last part so softly that it would’ve been almost impossible to hear by anyone else.  

“I beg your pardon,” said Ignis firmly. “Is that what this is about? Your looks?” 

You turned to look at him. His sandy hair was swept across his face, his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes were looking forward, at the road, but you could see a rare anger in them, and it made you a little nervous. “Well, duh, Ignis. I mean look at me. Does it look like I’ve ever missed a meal?” You patted your stomach and turned to the window again. “And like, it’s not fair, I don’t even have a cute face to make up for it. My fingers are short and stubby, like fuckin’ dinner sausages. I have no fewer than three chins, last time I checked. I’m also short. I don’t wear makeup. I’m not good at combat like you guys. The only thing I’m smart in is language arts and painting at school.” You turned to him again. His expression hadn’t changed. “So how do you think I feel, being around all of you? You all have four times the attractive looks I’ll ever have and more. It really gets a girl down, y’know.” You cleared your throat. “So yeah. It’s best if Gladio doesn’t even joke about stuff like that because I know he doesn’t mean it and it hurts, because I don’t look like the kind of girl anyone would want to be alone with. And I’d accept it better if his off-hand quips didn’t remind me of reality.” 

Ignis said nothing, because for once, he didn't know what to say. Your self-evaluation had caught him off guard—something he wasn’t used to, but he also wasn’t used to someone putting themselves down so harshly. He veered his car hard to the right and pulled into a brightly illuminated gas station. He put shifted into park and faced you, tears brimming at the edges of his emerald eyes.  

“I hope you’re not crying because you feel sorry for me. I’m not asking anyone to feel sorry for me, Ignis,” you said quietly.  

“_________.” Ignis breathed your name like a prayer. He grabbed your hands and held them in his, and suddenly you found it hard to breathe. Sure, your crush on Prompto was all-consuming, but like you’d confessed earlier, all four of them should’ve been arrested for being so inhumanely beautiful. It just wasn’t fair, and the gods were infinitely cruel to throw you in the same circles as these four young men. “You’re...I wish you could see yourself the way the others and I do,” he said. 

“Yeah, well.” You looked down, unable to keep eye contact. You knew your round face was all red, now, but at least Prompto wasn’t here to witness it. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better. Everything I said about myself is true.” 

“And so what if it is? You think that somehow makes you unworthy of affection?” 

“Uh, I mean, yeah? I guess?” 

Ignis shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he almost choked out. “Any man would be lucky to have you someday.” 

Your eyes widened at the passing thought of standing in front of Prompto at an altar and Ignis must’ve seen ten thousand emotions play across your features, because he smiled. “Or, are you thinking of one particular man having you?” 

You laughed and brought your hands out of his. He didn’t move. “You don’t miss much.” 

“You have a crush on someone. _That’s_ why Gladio’s comments make you so flustered.” 

“Y-yeah. Kinda.” 

“Me.” 

“Ignis!” You laughed. “Will you please just take me home already?” 

Ignis put the car in drive again and pulled back onto the road. “Well, is it?” 

“Look, dude. You’re attractive. I just said that. But it’s not, like. Crush level.” 

“Noctis.” 

“Dude,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure  _e_ _veryone_ has a crush on Noctis. So like, that doesn’t count.” 

Ignis laughed. “Fair point. His Highness does have that ‘man of mystery’ aura to him that his female classmates can’t seem to get enough of.” 

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “But like, I don’t want to marry him.” 

“Gladio?” 

“I’m holding off on having a crush on Gladio purely out of spite. I’m determined to be the one girl in Eos that doesn’t want to drop her pants at the sight of him.” You rolled your eyes. “That guy’s ego is as big as Lucis itself.” 

Ignis snorted and laughed, louder and harder than you’d ever heard him laugh. It was a good sound. “I would pay you a handsome amount to hear you tell that to his face.” 

“Ha! Maybe when we’re older, I will.” 

“Well, that just leaves one person. Unless, your crush is someone outside of our circle?” 

You shook your head and went quiet, heart throwing itself against your rib cage.  

“Prompto.” 

The silence spoke volumes. Ignis just went, “Ah,” after a time.  

You broke into panic mode. “Ignis,  _please_. You can’t say anything. You have to promise me. I can’t make this awkward. I can’t...I don’t want to lose the privilege of hanging out with all of you. I can’t deal with unrequited feelings so it’s better if he just doesn’t even know, okay?” 

Ignis nodded. “Very well. I shall act like this conversation never happened, and I’ll try to forget that you called us  _all_ attractive.” 

Your face flushed. “Well I mean, you all are! It’s a goddamn sin, is what it is.” You sat back and folded your arms. “It’s just...I think Prompto’s the cutest.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head back into the black leather seat. “I honestly can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.” 

“I’ve been told that I’m easy to talk to.” 

“Well, you are. Which is great. Don’t think I could’ve talked to anyone else about this, really.” 

“Oh, I think you and Gladio could’ve had a good run on it.” 

“Hell. No.” 

Ignis laughed again, and the rest of the car ride passed in comfortable silence. Ignis pulled in the driveway of your house and watched until you were safely in the door, then pulled away. He took out his cell phone and made a call.  


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try and fail to get out of going with Noct & co to Altissia. You think you're not good enough, but the king and the Marshal see something in you that you don't. 
> 
> And Gladio thinks he's slick but he's not, lmao.

You rocked back and forth on your heels nervously, praying to the gods that you weren’t in trouble for some unknown treasonable offense as you tried to read the titles on the books on the shelves in King Regis’ study for the hundredth time. You were sweating and your anxiety was really doing a number on you; you wouldn’t allow yourself to sit, so finally you crossed your arms and resorted to pacing across plush, ornate carpet. You’d dressed in a newly laundered and pressed Crownsguard uniform, feeling kind of cool in spite of yourself, liking how the jacket fit your average five-foot-six frame. You tried not to think about Prompto as you paced in agony, not daring to look at your watch. You absently picked at your nail beds, opening a fresh wound that left speckles of blood on your crisp fingerless gloves.  

Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, the door opened and you whipped your head around, eyes dilating as King Regis, Cor Leonis, and Clarus Amicitia entered the room. Sweat fell from you in buckets as the king took his seat behind desk, the other two Crownsguard standing on either side of him. He smiled at you warmly; the others merely nodded as you hastily saluted them.  

“_________, thank you for joining us. Please, have a seat.” Regis gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.  

“O-oh, yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.” You gave a quick, shaky bow as you crossed the room and sat on the edge of the chair, nearly gasping for air. “Um, can I...” 

“Of course. The reason I’ve called you here," he interrupted. “I should first assuage your apparent anxiety by saying that you’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I am about to ask you to do a great favor.” 

“My purpose is to serve the royal family of Lucis,” you said quietly but with as much conviction as anxiety would allow.  

He smiled. “I know you take your service in our Crownsguard very seriously, _________. Which is why I want you to accompany my son and his retinue to Altissia for his wedding to Lady Lunafreya of Tenebrae, to seal the promise of ceasefire between our kingdom and the Empire of Niflheim.” 

“Oh.” Oh yeah, you’d heard  _all_ about this wedding and treaty-signing from Noctis and his friends; and genuinely, you were happy for these tensions to be at an end. And you thought that Prompto going away for a bit, after having been in such agonizingly close proximity to him for four years would keep you distracted and maybe help with the obsession that just hadn’t gone away, even as you’d grown up. You were still very unsure of yourself, but you’d taken leaps and bounds from where you were as a teenager—all of you had, and you’d watched with joy as the prince, Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio had come into their own as both individuals and a unit. And you weren’t quite sure where you fit in. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor, but...I’m sure I would just be in the way. I’m sure that Ignis and Gladio, and Prompto, are more than strong enough to protect Noctis on his journey to the country of Accordo.” 

“Nonsense.” The king waved his hand.  

 _What is happening right now?_ “But I’m...I’m not a combat soldier, sir. I’m just a medic. I know for a fact that Ignis is pretty fast at taking a potion from Prince Noctis’ Armiger and breaking it over a wound.” 

“You can also wield elemental magic, yes?” 

“A fair amount. But so can the prince.” You sighed. “Your Majesty, I... just don’t think I’m good enough to do this. You’ve got the wrong girl.” 

Regis was silent for a long time. Clarus said nothing, but the Marshal bore holes into your soul, as if you were embarrassing him by inadvertently refusing the king’s request. Finally, he said, “Are you questioning my judgement, _________?” 

“W-what! No! Of course not! I just...” 

“Do you doubt yourself that much? Tell me. If you and I were alone in this room right now and someone came in with the intent to kill me, would you throw yourself in harm’s way for your king?” 

You stood, red-faced and shaking. “Of course I would, Your Majesty!” 

“Then would you not do the same for my son?” 

You bowed your head and bit your lip. “Of course.” You sat again.  

“The magic you possess,” he continued, “allows you to not only heal wounds and status effects, but you can also restore strength, vitality, and spirit, can you not?” 

You nodded.  

“And in the absence of potions, would you not be an asset to the battlefield?” 

“As...as long as I keep out of harm’s way, I suppose.” 

Regis looked at Cor, who finally looked away from you and at the king. “I wouldn’t have recommended her in error, Your Majesty.” 

“Of course not, Marshal. I always say,” Regis said, turning back to you, “that those who say they are not ready for a difficult task are the most prepared out of anyone.” 

You sighed. It looked like you were pretty outnumbered on this front. “Very well, Your Majesty. I shall accompany Prince Noctis to Altissia, as is my duty as a Crownsguard to the royal family of Lucis.” You put one arm across your stomach and bowed low, then snapped up and saluted. “Marshal, Lord Amicitia.” You looked at Regis again. “Um. When do we leave?” 

“In one week’s time. I’ve already informed your family of the matter, but I trust that you’ll have adequate time to get your affairs in order.” He smiled. “I’m not asking you to guide my son. Just be by his side, as a friend.” 

“It would be an honor.” 

 

Which is how you found yourself as the solitary cave in this glorified snake party, wedged in the back of Regis’ vintage Regalia between Noctis, who had already fallen asleep, and Gladio, who was lost in a dime store paperback. You’d become a little more comfortable with Gladio as you’d gotten older, and had no qualms about using his big, muscled arm as a makeshift pillow. You were pressed up pretty close next to him, actually, wanting to give Noctis as much space as possible despite your large frame. Gladio didn’t seem to mind as you had sighed and leaned onto him, peering out of half-closed eyes at Prompto leaning halfway out of the car, taking what had to be the blurriest photos of all time.  

“This is so cool! Would you look at all of this scenery?” the blond was saying excitedly.  

“You’d better not lean so far out, Prom,” you said. “Or you’ll become part of the scenery.”  _Well, I think you’re already the best scenery in Lucis, but..._   

Ignis chuckled. “_________’s right. Don’t lean so far out. There will plenty of opportunity to take snapshots when the car is not in motion,” he said dryly.  

“Yeah, don’t waste your time on blurry shots,” Gladio said, not looking up from his book.  

Prompto huffed a little but sat back, and it took all the willpower you had not to move or change expressions as he turned around in his seat and snapped photos of Noctis, of you and Gladio. Actually, you found it funny just how many times the camera shuttered once it was pointed at you.  

“Prompto. Can’t a girl get some shut eye without an audience?” You opened your eyes fully and brought one leg up to kind of kick at him playfully.  

“Aw, c’mon! I’m the official photographer for this adventure. You gotta let me do my job.” He grabbed your foot with one hand and wiggled it, clutching your black combat boots loosely.  

If you didn’t adore his face so much you would’ve kicked it, but you laughed and lowered your heel, threat of violence seeping out of you as his smile did what it usually did to your nerves. “Well, at least document something attractive.” 

“But I was.” 

“Aw thanks, Prompto, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” Gladio said slyly. He shifted a little and you sat up, but his arm lifted and came crashing down around you, pulling you to his chest, close enough to smell the mixture of his musk and deodorant. 

“Oh, now,  _that_ is an expression worth capturing,” Prompto said cheekily as he continued to take pictures of the two of you.  

You stared lasers into the review mirror until Ignis met your gaze and you mouthed “help me.” Your strained efforts to get out from under Gladio’s inhuman bicep weren’t working.  

“Gladiolus, please. We need our medic intact, not suffocated.” 

Gladio looked down at you with a shit-eating grin. “Aw sweetheart, oxygen deprivation not one of your kinks?” 

“Oh for the love of Eos, Gladio!” You fought and punched at him a little more until he finally gave in, letting you resume your previous position of resting your head on his arm.  

“Sorry babe, can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re all flustered like that.” 

"You, sir, do not fluster me. Exasperate, yes. Don’t kid yourself.” You folded your arms and closed your eyes, missing Gladio’s momentarily pained expression.  

“You tellin’ me that you don’t want to climb me like a tree, _________?” 

“Oh. My. Gods.  _Why_ are we having this conversation right now?” You sat up again and turned to face him.  

Prompto and his camera had fallen silent, but he was still turned around, gaze to the back seat, crystal blue eyes wide and freckled cheeks blushed with surprise at where the conversation had led.  

Your eyes caught him in your peripheral vision and your heart dropped.  _No,_ _Gladio_ _, but I’m two seconds away from climbing_ _Prompto_ _l_ _ike a tree._ You had a passing thought that if you took the firearms specialist right there in the car, then Gladio might  _finally_ leave you alone. Your gaze turned back upward and Gladio was staring at you with interest. “Ignis. You remember a conversation we had back in the day?” 

“Every detail, like it was yesterday.” 

Gladio cocked an eyebrow. 

“I want all the money you have on you, bro.” You coughed. “Gladio, I know you’ve probably never heard these words before, but. I don’t want to date you. Or have a one-night stand. There  _i_ _s_ someone I want to climb like a tree, but. You ain’t him.” 

Ignis snorted, and Prompto gave a little high-pitched shriek before falling into a melodic laughing fit. Honestly, you could listen to him laugh all day.  

Gladio’s face twisted into a sly grin. “Oh, is that so? Then who  _is_ this mysterious, lucky bastard that has your affections? If he’s better than me in bed,  _I’ll_ let him fuck me.” 

“Nah-ah. You’ll have to kill me before you learn that one, dude.”  

Gladio huffed and you saw determination in his eyes. Shit. You were going to have to be  _very_ careful about your interactions with Prompto. You’d gotten a hell of a lot better at it, but sometimes, your façade slipped and you started to stutter and act awkward around him like you used to. You still had a long way to go. You wondered if, or when, you were ever going to like anyone else the way you liked him.  

“Don’t hold your breath, big guy. You’re not ever going to find out. So just shut up.” 

But before he could reply, the Regalia’s engine sputtered and the five of you rolled to a complete stop in the middle of the highway.  


	3. Interlude: Prompto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time-warping back to Prompto's thoughts on you in high school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto likes himself some curvy girls, don't @ me, let me write my fanfiction in peace

All Prompto Argentum ever wanted was friends, and when he found them, he did everything he could to make them stay. Transforming himself hadn’t been easy, but it’d been worth it. He’d grown into his outgoing, joker personality in spite of himself. Noctis was his first real friend, his only friend for a while, if he were honest. But Gladio and Ignis had eventually warmed up to him, and over time, instead of superiors in the Crownsguard or babysitter members of the royal retinue, they came to regard him as friend, too.

And then, there was the surprise of you.

Prompto hadn’t been sure when the feelings had started, or even what they were at the time. He had slowly started to notice all the little things about you, like the predictable phrases you always spat at some less-than-kind classmates; the way you hesitated before making a sarcastic or dirty joke (which always took him by surprise, you seemed so innocent, but you could banter with Gladio like a champ on your best days); the way that languages and literature came to you like breathing or walking; the way you’d pick at your nails and take deep breaths before reading out loud in class; the way you seemed to always be staring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He started to notice, too, how you longingly sighed whenever a group of girls walked by you. He’d notice you staring at their hair, or at their model-like bodies, the way that they walked...and then you’d look down at yourself and bite back tears and power walk in the opposite direction. Because he knew that longing sigh. He’d sighed it many a time in his childhood. Funny, though, how you were so down on yourself because Prompto could’ve counted on one hand how many times he saw you eat candy or dessert in public. You were always munching on some kind of fruit or vegetable; not that it mattered what you ate, and not that it was anyone’s business, but he found it rather curious nonetheless.

It was when he found out that you were already in Crownsguard training that his admiration for you really kicked into high gear. He’d asked Noctis his opinion of you several months into the school year.

“Hey dude,” he’d said, flipping over the couch at Noct’s apartment one Saturday afternoon.

Noctis had been intently playing Assassin’s Creed and was only half-paying attention. “Yeah, what? It’s not your turn.”

“No, I don’t mean the game.”

“Oh. Then what?”

“So like, what’s your opinion of _________?”

“Who? Oh. Yeah, I mean, she’s cool I guess.”

“You know she’s been assigned to tutor me in lit class.”

He snorted. “Yeah you need it.”

Prompto punched his arm. “Ouch, buddy, that cuts deep.” Then, “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Noctis said nothing for several minutes.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“You like zoned out on me.”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

“What, thinking she’s pretty? Idk. I feel like people make fun of her. I don’t see her talking to a bunch of people. Mostly just us.”

“Yeah well, people are dicks. I mean she’s not ugly.”

“She’s self-conscious about her weight though. I can see it in her face when she sees a skinny girl.”

“I guess. So were you at one point.”

“Yeah but I don’t look how I used to. Plus I read somewhere that it’s harder for girls to lose weight than guys. And I never see her eat junk food, like, ever.”

“It’s probably because she thinks she’ll get made fun of for eating junk food.” Noctis paused the game and stared at his best friend. “Why are you asking me all of these questions all of a sudden? Do you like her?”

“I mean...I don’t know...as a friend, totally! We have a lot in common.”

“Do _you_ think she’s pretty?”

“Well, yeah, actually. Kinda. I mean she’s only a little shorter than I am, I do like short girls. And she’s so cute when she gets on a tangent about poetry or about some hidden meaning in the _Cosmogony_...”

“Dude your face is red.”

“Oh shit Noct. Do I actually have a crush on her?”

“Just ask her out, it’s no big deal.”

“What, are you like, the Mayor of Crazy Town?! I can’t just ‘ask her out.’”

“Well why not? If you like her, ask her out. Why are you making it so complicated.”

“Bro. You’ve _seen_ how I get when I talk to girls. They’re like, on a whole other level. They’re so...intimidating.”

Noctis shrugged. “Well I mean I can’t do it for you.”

“Besides what if she doesn’t like me back and it makes things awkward?”

“Dude I will literally give up my birthright to the thing that makes _you_ more awkward.”

Prompto laughed and fell back against him, clutching his heart and feigning heartbreak. “Damn dude, forget a girl hurting me, you’re doing a bang-up job all by yourself.”

Noctis laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You can talk to her with no problem, right? So that’s good.”

“Yeah, I guess, she’s pretty easy to talk to, which I appreciate very much. Hey! Is it true that she’s already in training to be in your Crownsguard?”

“Oh, yeah. She can wield elemental magic, like me. And she’s a healer. So she’s in training to be a medic. We don’t have too many of those, so. It’s cool that she found her way here. When Cor told me about her I was pretty impressed.”

“Wait she’s not originally from Insomnia?”

“Nah, someplace further south in Leide. She has kind of an accent, didn’t you notice?”

“Oh yeah! The way she says ‘y’all,’ it’s so cute! So wait. How’d she move here?”

“Dude, why can’t you just like, _call_ her and ask her all of this? Or invite her over, it’s Saturday.”

“You...really, can I?”

“Uh, yeah, Ignis won’t be by until later tonight to cook and clean. It’s not that bad in here, anyway.”

“But this is a _girl_ we’re talking about. It’s ________, Badass Literary Prodigy and Crownsguard Medic Extraordinaire.”

“Oh man, are you in it bad, bro.” Noctis saved his game and turned the console off, turning once again to Prompto. “So tell me what else you like about her.”

Prompto’s freckles hid under a deep shade of red. “W-well, I mean...so like she’s fat, I guess, but I don’t really care about that. It’s...her curves, bro. Like she’s so proportional. I just want to hug her all the time. She’s so soft and she always smells so damn good. And have you noticed how she never wears makeup? I don’t even think she needs it.”

Noctis grinned. “Dude. You’re totally crushing on her. You gotta tell her.”

“There’s no way,” Prompto groaned. He brought out his phone. “I’m...I’m gonna text her. To come over and hang out.” He tapped away on his phone for a few seconds. “And now we play the waiting game. I’ve always hated that game.”

“You aren’t any good at it, either.” Noctis paused. “Her curves, huh?”

“Ah, it’s not...it’s not like that...!” Prompto brought his hands up in front of his chest defensively. “I just...appreciate the female anatomy. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Noctis dragged out. His phone rang. “Yeah? Oh, hey, _________. No, it’s cool, I’m sure of it....yeah, I’ll text you the address. Cool, see you soon. Tell your mom hi for me.” He hung up.

“What the fuck! She calls you but can’t respond to me!” He whined as his phone dinged. “Oh speak of the devil...”

“Dude. She was just making sure she wasn’t...I don’t know, breaking Crownsguard protocol or whatever. Plus she’s a girl and we’re two dudes. It might be kinda weird for her, y’know.” Noctis shrugged. “But she’s coming, so put your cool face on.”

“What! I don’t have a cool face! That’s you! _You’re_ the one with the cool face. Oh man, now I’m freaking out and totally questioning my life choices.” He looked at his phone and smiled. “Ha! She sends the best memes, though. Here, look.”


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions runneth over

More than a week after breaking down and leaving the Regalia at Hammerhead, you and the guys were still roughing it in the wild terrain, suffering as Gladio insisted on camping for days on end. And if being in a car with the love of your life and three other attractive men wasn’t bad enough, you had to now  _sleep_ in a tent with them. The sleeping arrangements, however, had been your idea, and Ignis had thankfully decided to humor you.  

 

“Look, this is the only formation that makes sense,” you had argued with none other than Gladio, who had seemed to make it his life’s work to beat you into submission on revealing who you’d rather have sex with than him. “Ignis in front so he can wake up and start cooking without disturbing anyone. Then you, so that if we get attacked, you get to take your Shield title literally. Then Prom, who is your backup. Then  _me,_ the medic, who is restoring your strength and life force from a place of safety. And Noctis behind me. Because we’re all here to protect him anyway, right?” You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “Iggy, back me up here.” 

“________ does have a good point on the group dynamics, Gladio.” Ignis had nodded in agreement. “We should all put ourselves in front of his Highness for safety precautions.” 

“And besides, you wolf, I’m not sleeping next to you and taking the chance waking up with your damn hands being somewhere they’re not supposed to be.” 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m not  _that_ bad.” 

“Aren’t you, though?” you’d smirked. “When Noctis falls asleep he’s practically dead. And Prompto is...too sweet for any of that. So yeah, I’ll take my chances between the both of them.” 

Gladio had folded his arms gruffly, defeated.  

 

And so the daily grind of daemon hunting and food-gathering had trudged on while the Regalia got the TLC it so badly needed, and you and the prince’s company kept racking up gil as you took on more and more bounty jobs and fighting experience.  

Night had fallen and you were safely all huddled around the campfire, having just eaten one of Prompto’s favorites (at your suggestion, but no one needed to  _know_ that you knew it was one of his favorites) of dualhorn steak and Leiden pepper, which Ignis called “spicy long-bone rib steak.” Noctis was slumped back in the camping chair, threatening to fall asleep. Prompto was cleaning his guns and you were trying not to watch in rapt fascination, feeling suddenly sorry for yourself that you weren’t a silver revolver. Ignis was picking up the dinner preparations, and he’d somehow roped Gladio into helping him.  

“So ________,” said Prompto suddenly, and you snapped to attention.  

“What?” 

“So like how does your magic actually work?” He wiped one last streak across his favored gun, the Calamity, and absentmindedly sent it back into Noctis’ Armiger in a flash of ethereal blue.  

“Oh. Uh. How it works, well...I guess it’s a gift from the gods? I don’t really know, actually. I can command elements. Not as powerfully as Noct but, you know, okay enough. Fire, lightning, and ice. I can heal wounds and status effects, like poison and paralysis. But my favorite thing to do is to enhance vitality and strength. Like, when you all are so tired from battle, it’s so amazing to be able to rejuvenate you so that you’re not so tired and sore for the next fight, or when you wake up in the morning.” You looked around at everyone, then, who had stopped what they were doing to look at you. Even Noctis had roused and was focused in your direction. “Speaking of which, we haven’t done that yet, have we?” You stood up from your chair.  

Noctis, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto dropped their tasks and gathered around you, placing their hands on top of your open palms. You closed your eyes and began to summon the well of magic that was deep within you. You felt it surface as you willed it outwards, forcing it into the four different life forces that were standing before you. You heard Noct sigh in satisfaction, his own magic reacting that much more potently with your own, as he felt the effects of your spirit and vitality boost first. Then Ignis, then Prompto, then Gladio all sighed in relief, and when you opened your eyes, they looked a little less weary from the day’s rough events.  

“Man, I’ll never get used to that,” Prompto said as he resumed his position. “When this road trip is over, I’m kidnapping you so you can do that to me every day.” 

You steeled yourself to give a halfhearted deflection at the blush you knew was rising up past your ears. You looked down and sat back in your chair, deciding to play it like a smart ass. “Eh, you couldn’t afford my rates, buddy. Besides, I’m in the  _Crowns_ guard, not the... Chocobo Guard.”  _But actually please kidnap me,_ your dumb brain was saying. 

Noctis snickered. “Chocobo Guard. If anyone were to make a military company to protect chocobos, it’d be Prompto.” 

“They’re just so cute!” Prompto’s voice rose a few decibels as he finished up cleaning his guns. “And they grow up to be so big and sturdy! And the sounds that they make...ugh. Adorable.” 

 _You're adorable._  “So go kidnap a chocobo instead of me.” 

Prompto pouted. “Aw man, I can’t have both?” 

You giggled. “Prompto. I’m your friend. You can see me every day if you want and I’ll always help you whenever I can. You know that.” 

“Yay!” He got up and dusted himself.  

“Hmph,” said Noctis in feigned offense. “Trying to steal my most gifted medic out from under me, huh dude? That’s treason.” 

“Oh please,” said Prompto, slugging him lightly on the arm.  

 

The rest of the evening passed without event, and soon it was time for bed. Noctis crawled into the tent first and was asleep about point-five seconds after his head hit the pillow. You followed, stepping gingerly over the other guys’ sleeping bags and blankets until you settled down beside the sleeping royal. You turned over to face the outside of the tent and watched as Prompto climbed in and laid down beside you. The others followed suit and you all said your  _Goodnights_ , and then everything was still except for five wildly different variations of breathing. 

You’d forced yourself to look away from Prompto as you said good night. You’d closed your eyes and waited for an incalculable amount of time before opening them to get a peek of his tranquil, sleeping face. It’s what you did at night to calm your anxiety. You studied his sharp features, trying to count the freckles across his cheeks and nose like an insomniac trying to count sheep. You lost yourself in the soft curve of his lips, so close and yet so far away, streaks of blond hair falling across his face and touching his Cupid’s bow. It was hard not to reach out and touch his nose, which he thought was too pointed but you thought was the most perfect nose in the world; or to reach out and trace your fingers along the jawline that could cut glass. You tried and succeeded most days to match his quiet breathing, getting into a silent and one-sided rhythm as you let his close body heat warm you and lull you, finally, to sleep.  

Except tonight, strangely, when you opened your eyes to look at him, because he should’ve been asleep by now, as he always was...he wasn’t. You found your own eyes meeting his piercing blue ones and you thanked every one of the gods by name that the firelight didn’t reach so far back into the tent. You inhaled sharply and were about to stutter out an apology and some lame excuse when you felt his hand on your cheek, and oh, it burned like hellfire, but nothing else had ever been your saving grace. You were paralyzed as goosebumps shot from your shoulders to your toes and back again, a thousand times, and you in voluntarily shook. He said nothing, but kept his hand on your round, plush face, ever-so-slightly moving his thumb back and forth, but to you, it might as well have been his fingers in your already-wet pussy.  

You were too scared to move and he seemed content to just stare at you for long minutes, holding your face like you were some unknown anathema to him, some ancient object under a microscope, with Prompto Argentum being the best archaeologist in Eos.  

He spoke, finally, no more than a whisper. He’d brought his long, slender fingers to the back of your sweaty hair and forced you forward, until your foreheads were touching. You thought you might actually die.  

“Why do you look at me every night like I’m a galaxy in the sky?” 

His words knocked the breath out of you and you choked back a sob. It was futile, though, because the tears kept coming, and you tried your hardest to stop, and before you knew it, he had pushed himself above and closer to you, surrounding your bulky frame with his lithe slenderness, hooking one leg over your thighs and separating them, bringing one of your legs in between his in effort to close every gap between you. You cried into his chest as he gripped you hard, not knowing what emotions you were exactly going through, but determined to see you to the other side.  

After some time...minutes, hours, you weren’t sure...you came down from your fit and tried to pull away. His crimson tank top was wet with salty tears, all your fault. You were suddenly embarrassed, realizing your position and his earlier question that had set you off in the first place.  _So much for subtlety._ How did he  _know_? Had he just been closing his eyes enough to make you think he was asleep? How good was this man’s vision, anyway, that he could see through almost-closed lids in the dark?  

You were sure you’d taken every precaution. You’d even asked him a question once to make sure he was sleeping. Either you’d caught him in a rare moment, or the little shit had been faking sleep the  _entire_ camping trip so far. You were on the verge of just walking out into the night and letting an Iron Giant put you out of your misery. You lifted your head from his chest, wiping your burning and tear-stained eyes. Gods, you didn’t want to pull away. He smelled so good, crisp and clean like a field of flowers after a torrential downpour. He was skinny but also cut, the hardness of his muscles a sharp contrast to your excess of breast and tummy and thighs, and you didn’t hate how he had just melded into you like a mattress. You tried not to think about this...encounter...meaning anything when he distinctively tightened his grip on your shirt and held you.  

“You never answered my question, _________.”  

You coughed; throat raw from crying. “You really do not want to know the answer.” 

“I really do, though.” 

You shook your head, all sense of control fading fast as you trembled in his arms. You knew the playful side of Prompto, but you also knew the determined, focused side. This was a battle to him, and he wasn’t going to give up until he got a fatal head shot. You sighed. “It’s not worth losing our friendship over, so. You’re just gonna have to be ignorant about it. And can you let me go now?” You found yourself saying, betraying every fiber of your being that just wanted to die right there in his arms.  

“I like hugging you, though.” 

“Yeah well. It’s actually torture for me, so please. Let go, Prompto.” 

His eyes were laced with hurt and he slid out from around you back onto his own sleeping bag, under his stupid chocobo-print flannel blanket that you’d given him for his 18th birthday. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. And I’m going to stay awake all night until you give me an answer.” 

You shifted away from him finally, immediately missing his warmth and his skin, but you knew that if his leg stayed in between yours any longer, his shirt wouldn’t have been the only article of clothing of his to get wet. You snuggled under your covers again but you didn’t have the heart to turn away. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

“Anything. I don’t know what’s got you so emotional that you can’t hug me or open up to me.” 

“Okay, fuck it. You know what, Prompto? Here it goes. Say anything? Let’s see. Let’s start with the fact that I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.”  

His nostrils flared but he stayed silent.  

“Do you want me to tell you about how you’ve been masturbation fodder for me for four years, about how I feel utterly wrecked and stupid about not being able to like anyone else as hard as I try? Or let’s talk about how I over-analyze everything you say to me, every text message, every word of praise, hoping for some semblance of returned affection. How about the fact that I would stab my own heart if it meant that in my last dying seconds you‘d look at me the way you look at Cindy? Is this what you wanted to hear? That I feel so goddamned fat and ugly and so,  _so_ unworthy of not only being on this road trip but even being in the presence of you and Noct and everyone else? That my anxiety chips away at my sanity every day until there’s nothing left for me to do but to focus on keeping you guys safe on the battlefield and trying not to think about what would happen if you were too far gone for me to save? I look at you like a galaxy because you might as well be one. You’re very dangerous to look at, like the sun, and I can’t tear my eyes away, so I just let them burn, and maybe one day they’ll just burn up completely and I’ll be over you and able to live some semblance of a normal life.” 

You took a breath, now, unaware of how fast you’d just flayed yourself open to the gunman in the middle of the night after crying your eyes onto his shirt.  

Prompto’s eyes stayed fixed on you. You couldn’t read his expression, and you didn’t know if that was worse than the usual tell-tale motions of his face when he was happy, scared, angry, or etc. The silence widened. You spoke again.  

“Do you want me to continue? Do you want me to tell you how I curse my body every day for having a stupid hormonal disease that makes weight loss nigh impossible? That no matter how much I can diet or exercise, I’m pretty much doomed to look like this forever. And then let’s talk about how sorry I feel for myself that someone who looks like me has fallen hopelessly for someone who looks like you. Either you’re really fucking dense, Prom, or you’ve never had anyone tell you how sinfully beautiful you are. Because you could give me any command and I would do it without hesitation.” You paused. “I need air.”  

You got up and stumbled around for your shoes as quietly as you could, then crawled gingerly over Gladio and Ignis, and stepped out into the waning light of the dying campfire. You folded your arms over your chest, thin and baggy t-shirt not doing much to stave of the cool night air. You began to cry again, telling yourself that your friendship with Prompto was over now, and whose fault was it, really? Was it yours for telling him how you felt, or was it his for prodding you? As your sobs racked you, you had half a mind to light up your hands in fire magic and walk the five miles down to Hammerhead just to get away.  

“Gods,” you breathed aloud to any of the six deities who might’ve had a heart to listen. “Can one of you just....make this all go away?” 

Suddenly you felt hard, warm arms wrap around you from behind and the brush of lips in the crook of your neck. “Please don’t leave me.” 

Prompto was crying tears of his own now, and you didn’t have the heart or mental fortitude to pull away. His face was buried in your neck and hair for a long while before he moved and spun you around to face him.  

“Prompto,” you said looking away. “Listen. Just forget about everything I said, okay? I like being your friend. Forgive me, but I don’t want that to change. I’m a big girl. I can handle unrequited feelings. I couldn’t have back then, but...I think I can now.” 

“Who says they’re unrequited?” 

 _That’s it, I fucking knew it, maybe now I’ll get over—what._ You didn’t say anything as you forced yourself to look at him. Gods, there he was, smiling at you like you were the last chocobo on Eos.  

“Okay, ________. It’s all starting to make sense now. The way you’ve acted around me forever. The way you’re eager to do just about anything with me, even if you’re not into it. All those years back in the Crown City...I’ll admit that now I feel kinda dumb for not noticing it before.” 

You held a hand out to him. “Stop. Please don’t do this unless you’re really serious. I know you like to joke around.” 

“I’m not joking.” He sighed. “Look, I...I don’t care about any of that stuff you said before. About you. I don’t care how much you weigh or what your fingers look like. Which, they’re cute, by the way, I know I’ve told you that a hundred times. And I love hugging you, you’re just...so soft! Your dedication to Noct, the way you always keep going in spite of your anxiety—which, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve got those same issues too.” 

You opened your mouth to interject but he continued. “Did you know I used to be really fat, as a kid? And then I found Lady Lunafreya’s dog and nursed it back to health, and she wrote to me, asking me to befriend Prince Noctis and stay by his side. So I shaped myself into someone I thought would be worthy of him. You, on the other hand...I know you don’t fucking care what people think. You do it anyway. You don’t look or act anything like the other Crownsguard but that didn’t stop you from barreling your way in there at only  _sixteen_ to become the top medic. You wanna know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who could give Ignis a run for his money at ancient literature analysis. I see someone who would give you her last gil, plus the shirt from her back, even if it meant that she would go without. I see someone who’s almost as passionate about cute animals as I am.”  

You were softly crying now, but gods, you didn’t want to hear Prompto stop talking.  

“I see someone who tries to be what people need before thinking of herself. I see someone who loves coffee and rock music and video games.” He pulled you closer to him. “And about looks? All the mirrors you’ve ever looked at in your life must be fucking  _broken_ because you are so, so pretty. Your ears are small and cute, like your nose. Your lips are so naturally red and full. Your eyes, when you laugh and smile, gods, _________, you light up the room.” 

“No, no! It’s you who does that!” You leaned into his chest and started sobbing again. “Prompto, I...no one’s ever told me any of this about myself before. I’m having a hard time believing it.” 

“If I have to tell you every hour that you’re beautiful and worthy for you to believe it, then that’s what I’ll do. Okay?” 

All you could do was nod. You could hardly believe what was happening. It was more than you could ever have dreamed of.  

“Hey. Look at me.” 

You did as you were told and before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours, and you reacted hastily.  _This is my first kiss._ _Prompto_ _Argentum is kissing me and I’ve never kissed anyone before oh GODS what do I do._ You somehow managed to conjure up images from the hundreds of romantic comedies you’d watched with your mom and vaguely remembered the form. As he brought his hand to your chin and tilted it to the side, you pulled back slightly and returned his affections again with a little more grace. You nibbled on his bottom lip and the sounds he made was better than any teenage fantasy you’d ever had, and if you were wet before from just hugging him, what was pooling in your underwear now was a goddamned ocean.  

The more he kissed you the better you got, the two of you only coming up for air as much as you could hold your breath; which wasn’t saying much for you, because you’d stopped breathing a long time ago. After what seemed like hours, he pulled away.  

“Oh gods. If that’s just what kissing you is like, then I can’t even begin to imagine anything else,” he sighed as he pressed his forehead against yours. “So the person you want to climb like a tree...is me.”  

You froze. “Um," you said eloquently. 

He looked at you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said earlier. About me being masturbation fodder? That’s a pretty big ego boost, _________.” He broke into that shit-eating grin he got whenever he’d decimated Noctis at the arcade, or taken out more daemons that Gladio in a particular hunt. He winked. 

“Oh. Uh. Y-yeah.” 

“Do you wanna tell me about it?” 

“Tell you about what?” 

Prompto leaned low into your ear. “About what I do to you in your fantasies.” 

You had to slam your hand over your mouth, lest your moan not only rouse the other three men but all of the daemons within a ten-mile radius of your campsite. You felt your knees tremble and Prompto caught on, bringing one hand to the small of your back and thrusting you forward into him.  _Where the fuck was this coming from?_ You’d seen him interact with Cindy, all cute and stuttering and half-formed sentences, which is probably what you looked like to everyone else who’d had the misfortune to observe your interactions with Prompto over the last four years, but...it was like a switch had flipped. _This_  Prompto’s voice was husky and low and speaking directly to your libido, no shortage of words, no speech impediments. It was like the combat ace-shot grace that he fought with was blooming up and into his dripping intentions, all swagger and confidence, knowing just how much power he had over you, and he was loving every damn minute of it.  

You opened your mouth to reply. And then, in spite of yourself, you yawned.  

Prompto broke from his reverie and chuckled. “You’re pretty tired, huh? You have been crying a lot.” 

“You idiot!” You leaned forward into him. “This is all your fault,” your voice came out muffled against his shirt.  

“Oh, it’s my fault, is it? What are you gonna do, punish me?” 

Your face blossomed into another shade of red as you gazed up at him. “This really isn’t fair, you know. It’s not like we can do anything right now...with the guys around...and it’s dark, not like we can go sneak off behind a tree...” 

Prompto slid a hand up the back of your shirt; it was the most skin-to-skin contact you’d ever had from him, the only interruption being a singular black bracelet that never seemed to come off, even in sleep. You gasped, shivering at the sudden sensation. He was gripping hard at your soft skin, alternating between rubbing his palm flush against you and massaging the excess fat below your shoulders.  

“Prompto,” you breathed. “Where the fuck...where is this coming from?” 

“What do you mean, _________?” 

“This. This whole...kissing me. Wanting me. Putting your hands up my shirt. This confidence.”  _For the love of the Six, put them up the front,_ your brain was screaming. “When you could barely say two coherent sentences to Cindy. Or any other girl I’ve seen you interact with.” 

“You can stop bringing her up, you know. For sure, she’s a bombshell, and it caught me by surprise. But...she doesn’t look at me the way you’ve been looking at me. The existence of her beauty doesn’t negate your own. You’ve literally been here for me for four years. Why would I throw that away to chase someone else now that I know the truth?” 

You chuckled. “She is pretty hot, though. I mean, if I were into girls...” You had the passing thought of asking Prompto if he wouldn’t mind a threesome.  

“So,” he said, continuing his ministrations on your back. “Are we going to back to bed, or are we willing to risk it all?” He glanced around the campsite. The fire was almost gone, and from the location of the moon, he guessed that it somewhere between midnight and one in the morning. He briefly glanced at the collapsible table that Ignis used to prepare your fresh, gourmet meals and turned to you and cocked an eyebrow, and smirked, and you laughed out loud in spite of yourself.  

“Dude, Ignis knows  _everything_. You think he won’t figure out that we did the do on his  _cooking_ table?” 

“Well it was just an idea.” 

“I think,” you said as you yawned again. “I think I’m too emotional for much of anything right now.” 

“Yeah, okay! If that’s what you want.” He smiled warmly at you and managed to assuage all of your fears with just a look.  

Your mind was racing as the two of you carefully crawled back into the tent.  _Holy shit, I’m basically going to eventually have sex with_ Prompto _,_ _Prompto_ _likes me back,_ _Prompto_ _thinks I’m beautiful,_ _Prompto_ _kissed me,_ _Prompto_ _put his hands under my shirt..._ You snuggled back into your sleeping bag and watched as he did the same, leaving one hand out to drape over your back. You scooted closer to him, slightly more away from Noctis. As you drifted off into the most blissful night’s rest you’d had in a while, you thought you might’ve heard an accented voice whisper to the dark, “It’s about bloody time.” 


	5. Interlude: Ignis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis thinks you're great in the most platonic way possible, and the way you see yourself makes him sad. :(

Ignis Scientia’s position in life had never afforded him the luxury of being wrong. Politically and militarily speaking, he was in set to become the Crown Prince’s right-hand man, his tactician, his liaison, his adviser. He was both friend and brother to Noctis now, chamberlain, cook, retainer, protector, provider. If Noctis needed help with homework, Ignis was there. If he had no food in his refrigerator, Ignis was there with bags and bags of the best brands and organic produce and the freshest meat money could buy. If Noctis needed a ride, Ignis was the chauffeur. And truly, he loved his job. He loved Noctis. His entire life—hell, his whole family’s lives—were dedicated in service to the royal family. Ignis spent hours in the Citadel’s library, reading up on what it meant to be the “Chosen,” studying maps and geography, the history of Eos, the  _Cosmogony_ and the relationship of gods and humans. He studied the Starscourge, the Empire of Niflheim. Local and foreign cuisine became his passion as he noticed, with slight irritation, that Noctis’ diet was severely lacking in adequate nutrition. He became fluent in over a dozen languages and scores of sub-dialects, at least conversationally so. He pushed his body to the limits in sparring matches with Cor, Gladio, and other Crownsguard. If it was Noctis’ concern, it was his concern.  

He’d never had much time for women—truthfully, he’d only ever pursued one girl in high school, but with his duties to the crown, he soon found that committed relationships were not in his foreseeable future. It’s not that he didn’t have needs like any other man, but he found alternate ways of satiating them. Women weren’t much of an enigma to him—like politics or cooking, he considered them just another subject to be studied. Ignis appreciated beauty, and beautiful women were no exception. He was never one to deny himself simple pleasures, so what he lacked in monogamy, he made up for in serial (albeit safe) hookups.  

And so he found himself very confused when someone he did not consider to be (at least outwardly) beautiful suddenly appealed so much to him.  

_____ had come to Insomnia, seemingly out of nowhere, and had landed smack dab in the middle of the Crownsguard as potentially the most gifted healer the military force had seen in decades. Her parents had written to the Marshal himself, and on permission from King Regis, the family had uprooted to the Crown City in order for this shy, plain, teenage girl to be formally drafted, with the understanding that upon her eighteenth birthday, her life would in fact be in personal service to Noctis, much like his was now. The girl seemed to take her duties very seriously, her dedication to medic and magic training on par with those twice her age. She seemed mature beyond her years, her understanding that this gift from the gods was not to be taken lightly, and recognized that her path in life had, much like his own—and much like Noct’s--had been predetermined for her. She didn’t seem to mind that much, from what Ignis observed. She was reserved and usually visibly nervous, and after a few words with her one afternoon, ______ had confirmed his suspicions of a generalized anxiety disorder. She also had what Ignis recognized as a terrible case of impostor syndrome, but he was used to that after being around Prompto.  

The fact that _____ could be called beautiful one day hit him like a ton of bricks as the two of them were leaving the Citadel’s training facility, he all sweaty from clashing with Gladio and his greatsword, her body slumped over from pushing the limits of her healing and magical capabilities. Her shoulder-length brown hair had lost its usual bounce and was sticky on her forehead, part of it curled around a black bandana in her hair that bore the Lucian crest. She was in a black tank top and the bottom part of her Crownsguard uniform, pants tucked into the same standard-issue combat boots that he himself wore. Sweat pooled down her back and front, and she shivered every few minutes as her body struggled to regulate its temperature. She was only about five-foot-six to his six-foot even, and but probably twice as heavy. Her ears were pierced in an asymmetrical pattern, two on the right and three on the left, and he could see a large Crownsguard insignia already tattooed on her fleshy right shoulder. Her soft brown eyes stared distantly ahead as she walked with him in relative silence, a quiet contemplation that he appreciated. Prompto was always overly-talkative, only shutting up when told, and even then usually did so after the third request. He suspected that it might’ve been the introvert in her, or the anxiety.  

“Ignis,” she said after some long minutes, breaking him from his silent observation of her. 

“Hm?” 

“Tell me what you know about the  _Cosmogony_.” 

Ignis inhaled sharply and looked at her in surprise.  

“I’ve been doing some extracurricular reading and there are some parts I’d like to talk about that I can never find the time to discuss with my teachers.” 

And so they’d launched into a conversation that’d left Ignis reeling with awe at her thoughtful and in-depth analysis of not only the  _Cosmogony_  but about several other key piece of Lucian literature. The passion with which she talked about books was unlike any he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing, especially in a personal conversation.  

“Your brain,” he said as he escorted her to the beat-up old van she pointed out as her family’s singular transport, “is one of the most intriguing I’ve ever met, _____. I cannot tell you how much of a breath of fresh air this conversation has been.” 

_____’s eyes went wide and a blush rose up from the top of her well-endowed chest and up into her hairline. “Oh, uh...wow, Ignis, that’s quite the compliment. You...you really like talking with me? I feel so dumb around you.” 

He pursed his lips and frowned. “Absolutely not, _____. I implore you to banish that thought from your mind. I would relish a hundred more of these literary conversations with you. It’s certainly not like I can have them with Gladiolus or Noct.” 

_____ giggled. “Or definitely not Prompto. I’m his language arts tutor, after all, required by both our professor and the school principal.” She stopped a few feet from the car, when her mother rolled down the passenger window and hollered.  

“Are you really? I had no idea.” 

“Oh yeah, for a few weeks now. He’s pretty hopeless, but.” She looked down, blushing again slightly. “I’m tryin’. And he helps me in math sometimes, so. It’s a win-win.” 

“Indeed,” said Ignis as he smiled and waved to the middle-aged woman in the driver’s seat. “I don’t want to keep you. Have a pleasant evening, _____.” 

“Thanks Ignis.” ____ smiled genuinely. “You too.”  

 

And then one month later came the silent confession and desperate beg for secrecy at _____’s declaration of affection for Prompto, and of course he resolved himself to secrecy, because why should he care or even get involved in the puppy-love pining of minors; but it was her self-evaluation that gave him pause and almost brought him to tears. Ignis never heard someone be so self-deprecating before, and his heart ached at the way that this utterly selfless and brilliant young woman saw her reflection. The fact that ______ was short and stout barely registered to him anymore and Ignis came to regard her not only as a respected member of the Crownsguard and as an equal, but as someone like sister, or closer, if there even existed such a thing. He’d never felt so protective of anyone else in his life other than Noctis, not even himself. He canceled a pretty fine date that evening after he dropped ______ at home, and after checking on Noctis, went to his own living quarters and cried himself to sleep.  


	6. Lestallum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor tries to get you to pull your head out of your own ass; everyone knows you and Prompto share Feelings; Gladio is a little shit and doesn't like being flexed on; and you finally wrap up your virginity and give it to Prompto as a present (which he appreciates a lot).

In the whirlwind of events that’d happened since the five of you had read that newspaper headline at the hotel in Galdin Quay, you and Prompto had had little time to continue to talk about your mutual feelings, putting selfish desires aside in the face of impending worldwide disaster. After travelling  _back_ to Insomnia and being met with an Imperial blockade, then travelling  _back_ to Hammerhead (where Prompto, you observed happily, was much less jittery around Cindy, to which Ignis had given you a knowing look and a sly grin), then to the hunter headquarters, and finally meeting up with Cor, who’d laid the revelation out to Noctis that he’d have to find thirteen royal tombs of Lucian kings past in order to obtain their weapons to add to his Armiger. It was the only way of standing a chance against Niflheim.  

Tensions had been high between everyone, so you’d just hung back silently, doing your job as well as you could.  You’d never seen Noctis so angry, which was understandable, considering that his father had in fact anticipated imperial interference and sent the five of them away just days before he was assassinated. Cor had pulled you aside just before he’d left you all for good.  

“Hey, _____. You doing all right?” 

You shrugged. “As well as can be expected, sir. I’m getting better at battles, I guess.” 

“That’s not what I meant.”  

You stared at the Marshal. “I don’t...what are you asking?” 

“I’m asking about _you._  I was confident about sending you away for a reason, you know.” 

You folded your arms and sighed. “Since you’re so in the mood to explain things, you might as well tell me why you think I’m so special, because I sure as hell haven’t been able to see it.” 

“______. You are one of the most talented, and powerful, medics we’ve had in the guard for a long time. You may not understand it now, but Noctis needs you. This  _world_ needs you.” 

“I personally think the gods chose the wrong girl for this. I’m not...” You closed your eyes and looked away. “I don’t  _look_ like everyone else, Cor. I don’t look like I fit in here, with the guys, or even with the Crownsguard at all.” 

Cor lifted an eyebrow. “There are plenty of women in the guard...?” 

“That’s not what I mean. I mean--” you gestured to yourself, “I don’t  _look_ the part, okay? I don’t feel the part, either. I’d give my life for the crown and I kinda wish you’d let me stay in Insomnia so I could do that. I don’t get why everyone thinks I’m so special.” 

“The gods gave you this magic, _____. It’s not up to us. We had no choice but to save you. And who the hell cares what you look like? Is that what this is? You’re self-conscious about your weight, or because you’re short? From the way Prompto keeps making eyes at you, I figured that’d be the last of your worries.”  

You blushed. “I...he does not look at me!” But you knew better. If Cor could see it, anyone would probably be able to. “And I’m not  _that_ short,” you whispered.  

“Honestly,” Cor said as he looked back at the four friends; Prompto was glaring daggers at him, nervously fidgeting as Ignis chastised him to calm down. “This group needed a little...feminine touch.” 

“Oh trust me, Ignis does a good job at being a mom. He’s even a mom to Gladio.” 

“Still.” Cor clapped a hand on your shoulder. “You are wanted. You’re needed, and you’re important. Noct needs you. Prompto...well, he needs you too, just...not in the same way.” 

“Why are we having this conversation, Marshal?” You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.  

“I think it’d help his confidence on the battlefield.” 

Your hand dropped and you stared at Cor Leonis, slack-jawed.  

He smirked.  

“You want me to fuck Prompto because you think that’ll...what? Loosen him up? Blow off steam, let out stress? Gee if that’s the case, I should fuck Ignis first.” 

He laughed. “I didn’t mean...well okay, I did kinda mean it like that. But don’t think I, of all people, haven’t noticed the bedroom eyes he’s been giving you since he started training two years ago.” 

“I...he’s really been looking at me like that?” 

“The same way you look at him? Good grief, we had a goddamn betting pool back in Insomnia, who was gonna make the first move. Guess all that money’s blown to shit now, though.” He sighed.  

“Wow.  _Wow._ And no one thought to tell me this? Crowe? Monica? All the nights I cried to them about unrequited love?”  _So much for girlfriends_ , you thought.  

“Look, I’m not here to get involved in relationships. The crux of the matter is that you, _____, can wield magic like a Glaive and that’s really, really special.” 

“Well, so can Ignis.” 

“But Ignis was brought up in Insomnia. His family has been surrounded by the royal family for generations. You—don't take offense—are a backwater nobody from nowhere who sprouted magic like an overwatered houseplant at  _ten._  You don’t think that maybe you have some other purpose in this life other than to be a pretty face? I know you have anxiety, but you really need to get outside of yourself for this one.” 

You bit your lip at the Marshal’s words. You knew he was right, of course. Suddenly you felt very overwhelmed and tired. “I know you’re right. It’s just...my brain fights me on it.” 

“I won’t pretend to know what’s going on in that head of yours, but just know that I’m rooting for you. The whole Guard is rooting for you.” He looked up at the guys in the distance and waved, saluted you, and walked off.  

 

Prompto bolted over. “That seemed like a pretty intense conversation, ______. What did you two have to talk about?” 

“Ah,” you said, face flushing. “I’ll tell you later. Mostly it was just him convincing me that it wasn’t a mistake for him to send me on this trip.” You smiled and Prompto smiled back, warming your spirit. The two of you walked back to the group. 

“Everything in order?” Ignis asked.  

“Yep!” You smiled at him. “I’m good.” You glanced at Noctis, who was still kind of brooding. “Hey dude.” 

He looked at you.  

You stepped up to him and put your hands on his shoulders. “I am here for you, Noctis, for what it’s worth.” You sighed deeply and found the magic deep inside you and sent it out to him, warming him and restoring a little of his spirit.  

His eyes softened as you did so, tears welling up at the edges. In an uncharacteristic move, the prince fell into you, sobs wracking his body as they had done in the tomb during Cor’s revelations. The others crowded around the both of you, decorum lost to sorrow and resolve as you let Noctis sob in your arms.  

 

Just days later found all of you in Lestallum, reunited with Gladio’s sister Iris and the Amicitia’s chamberlains, the Hester family. Ignis had had no choice but to splurge on one of the largest suites the Leville hotel had to offer, since there were five of you. You were looking forward to a small break from tomb-, monster-, and MT-hunting, and  _gods_ , you couldn’t wait to run the tap dry in an actual  _shower._  You followed the guys to the room and once Ignis stuck the key card in the door and opened it, you made a beeline for the parlor that was connected to the bedroom and threw yourself on the couch, which the clerk had assured you all was sleeper-sofa. A bar separated the seating area from the modest but clean kitchenette, and a long balcony connected the outside of the bedroom and the parlor.  

“Not moving ever again. Leave me here,” you groaned into the cushions.  

Prompto came over and sat on top of you. 

“Oh GODS I take it back! Help!” 

He laughed and stood up. “C’mon, you don’t mean that.” 

“I do in this moment.” 

Ignis came into the seating area and kitchen after dropping his bags off on one of the queen beds. “Small accommodations, but they shall suffice. I simply cannot wait to browse the market and whip up some new recipes.” He glanced at you. “Why are you lying on the sofa?” 

You begrudgingly sat up and rubbed your eyes. “Because...I figured this is where I was sleeping?” You gestured to the beds. “Made sense for y’all to have the beds. Besides, I wasn’t gonna ask Noctis to sleep on a  _couch_.” 

“That would be treason!” The prince called from the bedroom.  

You snorted. “And...I mean I’m the shortest, and the only girl...it just felt natural to drift in here.” 

Ignis folded his arms. “Would you not be more comfortable in a bed with Prompto?” 

“Ah!” You choked out. “Wha...what?” You whipped your head to look at the blond, who was frozen in shock, mouth open, looking at Ignis as though he’d just said he’d lost the taste for Ebony coffee.  

Ignis adjusted his glasses. “It’s high time you two stopped beating around the bush.” He looked at you. “______. You realize that your feelings for him are mutual, yes? Have been since Hammerhead, if I’m not mistaken.” 

You bit your lip and nodded. “Right,” you breathed.  

“Well, Prompto isn’t exactly subtle.” 

It was true. Since the confession outside of Hammerhead, there’d been lingering touches, longing glances, giggles, whispers, hair brushed behind ears...Prompto had even grabbed your hand to hold at one point in a dungeon, and you’d let him for about five seconds before Noctis had turned around to tell you to hurry up, at which point you’d thrown him away from you as though he were on fire. Camping had been your only salvation, practically falling asleep entangled in each other and making sure that at least one of you woke up early to turn over and scoot away.  

Gladio entered the room now, smirking. “Sooooooo, Blondie’s been your target all along, huh _____? Though he’s less like a tree and more like a twig,” he said, referring to your shared innuendo. “I gotta say I’m not surprised though. You’ve grown up some but that crush of yours hasn’t. Looking back...I can’t believe I was so out of the loop.” 

You put your head in your hands.  _Is Noctis the only one not invested in my affections for_ _Prompto_? 

“Just don’t have sex in front of us,” the prince yelled out.  

 _Never mind._ “Okay, now that this is all out in the open, can we move on? Great. Prompto and I like each other. Next topic.” 

“Have you two even fucked yet?” asked Gladio. “Can’t imagine you’ve had much of an opportunity, but kudos if you’ve managed to sneak a quickie when we weren’t paying attention.” 

“Gladio!” you roared, beyond embarrassed. You looked at Ignis desperately. “Please get him out of here.” 

Prompto coughed and whispered something inaudible.  

“Come again, Blondie?” 

“I said,” Prompto had that shit-eating grin again, “that I bet before our time in Lestallum is over, I’ll have had sex more times than you, big guy.” 

You put your head in your hands and doubled over your knees. 

Ignis merely snorted and made his way out to the balcony, placing a tender hand on Gladio’s shoulder on the way, whose jaw was hard-set and twitching with annoyance. He merely turned on his heel and went towards the bedroom door. 

“Where are you going?” Noctis called out.  

“To get some damn noodles! And a  _date_!” He screamed as he slammed the door behind him.  

Ignis came back inside. “Well done, Prompto. I dare say that’s the first time you’ve ever managed to get him.” 

“Thanks Iggy!” He beamed brightly as if he hadn’t just issued a “fuck-off” challenge to the definitive alpha male of the Crown Prince’s retinue. He looked down at you.  

You’d brought your head up again, laughing at Gladio’s heated exit, but your face was still red. You could make innuendos all day, sure, but you were still a virgin. And that both embarrassed and angered you, even though you and Prompto had talked about it many times since you’d confessed your feelings.  

“I think I’m going to go to that market now.” Ignis gave you and Prompto a pointed look.  

“Y-yeah, Ignis. Okay, cool. Have fun.” 

He walked back into the bedroom and roused Noctis, who was still face-planted into the bed and dozing. “Come, Highness. Iris mentioned that she wanted to show you around. Best not keep her waiting or Gladio’ll have your head.” 

You heard Noctis give a long, drawn-out groan, but minutes later, he followed Ignis out of the hotel room.  

 

You and Prompto were alone now. You stared at each other for several seconds before he made a quick move to straddle you on the couch, pushing you back into the thin cushions with the hard leanness of his body. You moaned into his mouth as he brought one gloved hand to the back of your head and wound his fingers in your hair, while his other hand trailed down your neck and onto your chest, grasping your breast and kneading it.  

He pulled away slightly. “Let me know if I do anything to make you uncomfortable.” 

All you could do was nod, brain and cunt already turned over to pure lust as Prompto assaulted your mouth again, grinding his fast-growing erection against you. You couldn’t decide if you wanted your first time to be fast or slow, but with the way Prompto was devouring you, it was looking like the former. Which you didn’t mind, exactly, after four years of sexual frustration. There would be plenty of time to take it slow in the future. Right now, you both needed each other more than oxygen.  

Prompto broke the kiss and stood up, leaving you to sigh in disappointment. You opened your eyes to see him hurriedly stripping down to just his boxers and suddenly you couldn’t breathe properly.  

“Oh gods, Prom. You’re beautiful, holy fuck.” He stood in front of you, freckled cheeks dusted with pink as his underwear tented, barely containing his need. His whole body was blushing, pale skin stretched over taught muscles painted with even more freckles. He really was a galaxy. He'd left his gloves and bracelets on, because he remembered you’d mentioned that you thought he looked so hot and badass in them at one point. 

“Yeah?” His voice was raspy as he chuckled. “But this isn’t fair. I need to see you.” 

Aaaaaand here it was, your best fantasy and worst nightmare converging. Because Prompto knew you were fat with clothes on. But the stretch marks, the cellulite...he hadn’t seen  _that._ And you were terrified. You started to cry. “I...Prompto, I’m so ugly, I...” 

He was kneeling between your legs in an instant, hand to your cheek to catch the tears. “Hey. _____. Look at me. You could never be ugly to me. Ever.” 

You shook your head. “My body...it’s...I’ve got marks, discolorations...hair...” 

“So what?” 

“You say that now...” 

“Please.” He was straddling you again, wrapped and pressed into you. You knew you were hurting him by denying him your body, but it was so, so hard to show yourself...you were already self-conscious around the other women in the guard even after years of post-shower locker room changing sessions, but to have  _Prompto_ now about to see you naked? It was too much to bear. He leaned to your ear. “I need you so badly, _____. I need my cock buried in your wet pussy. Please. Can’t you feel how hard I am for you?” He ground his hips and your voice hitched as his hard length met your soft stomach. “I love you so much. I’ve waited so long for you,” he was whispering, and your fingers found his back and you dug your nails into his shoulders and he moaned out, uninhibited, and your resolve finally broke.  

“Yes, Prompto. Yes, you can have me,” you choked out as you went to move out from under him.  

He stood as you rose to your feet as well. “I’m...I’m gonna close my eyes. That way if you get...I dunno, turned off, at least I don’t have to see it.” 

His eyes went dark. “That’s not going to happen, but if it makes you feel better...” 

You sighed and steeled yourself, pulling off your boots first, then your shirt. You waited a second, waiting to hear a laugh or a cry of disgust and the retreating of feet, but none came. You slowly brought your hands to your jeans and unbuttoned them, working them slowly down your hips and thighs and letting them pool at your feet, along with your underwear. You got goosebumps, and shivered, the hotel room fans hitting your bare skin with cool air. No sound except the erratic breathing of Prompto, so you brought your hands around to the back of your bra and undid the four hooks, sliding the wired contraption from your shoulders and away from your breasts, dropping it on the floor beside your shirt.  

Only then did you finally gather the courage to open an eyelid, and an orgasm almost instantly hit you as you saw the way Prompto was kneeling before you, eyes wide and jaw slack. His boxers were off and he was stroking himself. He was touching himself to the sight you taking your clothes off, naked in front of him for the first time. You didn’t know how you weren’t fainting on the floor. You stared at him, stared at his hand on his cock—you'd seen dicks in porn and in movies, but in person, especially  _his_ dick...he wasn’t particularly long, but gods, he looked to be pretty thick in girth, and you shivered in anticipation.  

“How...how can you say you’re ugly?” he gasped as he stood, hand falling away from himself as he pressed up against you, enveloping you in a kiss again. He brought his lips down to your chin, your collarbones; he lifted one heavy breast and sucked hard at your nipple, making you cry out as you grabbed fistfuls of his stiff, blond hair. He switched to the other and repeated the action, before kissing his way down your stomach full of red and purpled stretch marks, the sign of getting too big too fast before you’d ever heard the words “poly-cystic ovarian syndrome” in the OB/GYN’s office; he nuzzled the soft brown hairs that trailed below your bellybutton and down to the fatty expanse of your lower abdomen. He was kneeling again before you, and still he went lower, until his nose grazed your bushy and unkempt pubic hair, and his tongue reached out and ever so gently parted your labia. 

“Prompto!” You screamed, and that was all the invitation he needed to bring both hands to your flat, fleshy ass and set you on top of him, pulling your feet out of your discarded pants, his strength alone supporting the two of you as he dove into your vagina. You barely had time to think or rock your hips against him as he mercilessly ate you out, tongue going places you’d only dreamed of, soft red lips sucking on your clit. You were falling and holding on for dear life as you felt an arm snake further around you, and one arm dropping away from your back as two fingers slowly pushed into you as he continued his ministrations with his mouth.  

You came in about three minutes, screaming and moaning bastardizations of his name half-formed on your lips, as you shook and bucked your hips onto his mouth and fingers, which continued until you were well past your breaking point. You finally had to force him away and you sank to the floor, spent. He climbed on top of you, bottom half of his face still slick with your juices. He smiled down at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.  

“You doing okay?’ 

“Pretty okay,” you laughed out. “Though I’m loathe to ask where you learned to do  _that._ ” 

He shrugged. “I’ve asked Gladio a lot of questions, believe me. And, uh. I’ve read a lot. And...watched. A lot.” 

“Is this your first time, Prom?”  

He shook his head. “But I’ve only had sex once, and I’ve never done what I just did to you.” 

“At least I have that. Gods, that was...fuck.” You shuddered again. 

“Am I taking you on the floor, or are we going to move to a bed?” 

You sat up, still coming down from your high. “Are we really going to be sharing a bed? Then who’s gonna sleep on the pull-out?” 

“Ah, probably Specs. He’s right next to the kitchen this way, besides.” Prompto stood and pulled you up to meet him in another kiss. It was weird but also insanely hot to taste yourself on him. He pulled you into the bedroom and swept suitcases from the plush covers as he laid you down. He turned away and started to dig in one of his bags, bringing up a small blue square and ripping it open.  

“Prompto,” you breathed. “I...I mean I am on birth control. I trust you, I mean, if you don’t want to use one...” 

His blue eyes went wide and he dropped the condom without thinking. “Holy shit.” His cock twitched. “Are you sure?” 

“Y-yeah. Please. I want to feel you.” 

Prompto ran his hands through his hair and climbed on the bed. He moved you a little from side to side until he was lined up with you. You felt his velvet head press against your still-sensitive clit and you moaned.  

“Let... _fuck_ you feel so good. Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he breathed.  

You nodded as he hooked both of your short, squat legs over his shoulders and eased into you. You grimaced at first at the sensation, but you soon adjusted, your body still loose and relaxed from orgasm. You gave Prompto a nod and he thrust all the way into you, his voice going high with lust.  

“You’re so wet, ______,” he moaned.  

All you could do was stare and nod.  

“I’m going to move now, okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” you managed.  

Prompto brought himself out of you and back in, and he growled. He leaned over you and brought his mouth to your breast as he began to pump in and out of you, finding a quick rhythm.  

Your palms were flush against his chest as Prompto fucked you. Your brain was on autopilot as waves of pleasure wracked your body. It was all you could do to scream his name and some variation of “fuck, yes, don’t stop,” when suddenly, he lifted your hips up a bit more and pushed deeper inside of you. You watched his face in awe. You’d never seen this look on him before, his face contorted into a look so primal and needy. His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat, his freckles buried under deep red cheeks, his eyes hazy with desire, lips chapped and red from being buried inside of you. Gladio be damned; as far as you were concerned, Prompto Argentum was a sex god, and he was  _yours._  

You felt the familiar coil of orgasm again. “G-gods, Prom...I’m coming again...” 

“Fuck, yes, _____. Give it to me baby. Please. Scream my name. I’m so close.” 

You didn’t deny him as your vaginal orgasm hit you hard and your legs shook against the front of his shoulder joints, screaming his name with all the strength you had left in you.  

You felt him shudder and cry out minutes later, felt his cock pulsating inside of you, your insides being filled with his hot release. He collapsed on top of you and hugged you, squeezing your plush body as he slowly went soft.  


	7. Interlude: Gladio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks to how Gladio saw you in high school; in short, he likes his women thicc, but he never develops a complete crush on you per se; he's actually more concerned with getting you out of your shell and primed for whichever lucky bastard gets you in the future.
> 
> Also I have this headcanon that, as a food connoisseur, Ignis HATES fad diets, so that's in here. Sorry if that's sensitive for anyone, but since food and weight are inevitable topics of discussion for our chubby Reader, it's in here. I'll try not to dwell on it though.

Gladio liked tits and ass. It wasn’t a secret. And with that territory came the fact that Gladio tended to drift towards curvier, fleshier women, who more often than not had bigger breasts and fatter butts. Oh, he’d had his fair share of thin girlfriends or one-night stands, but whenever he found himself in a strip club or any other adult establishment, he’d inevitably drift toward the slightly plushier ladies.  

Which is why, when you came into the prince’s life, wielding his and his father’s magic like it was as easy as holding a pencil, he’d made it a point to flirt mercilessly until two things happened: one, you either reciprocated and agreed to date him; or two, you’d give your affections to someone else to make him jealous.  

It had been evident to Gladio within the first five minutes of meeting you that you’d be a tough egg to crack. You were beyond shy, introverted to the core (even more so than Noctis, which was really saying something), and not too talkative unless approached first. For all your power, you were still pretty unsure of your capabilities. You tended to get flustered easily, he observed, around just about anyone: himself, Ignis, Noctis, Prompto...but the way you cut eyes at the goofy blond stirred something in the shield. You were self-deprecating in a way that made him want to both slap you and kiss you hard, if only to get his point across that some men did find women of your body type desirable. Gladio would never call his feelings for you a crush, but more like a desire to make you feel loved and beautiful. And he didn’t exactly know how to do that, because he wasn’t Ignis nor could he ever hope to be, but damn if he didn’t try.  

You were an awkward teenager, an outsider of common birth but uncannily blessed with latent magic ability, and the only thing you were concerned about was what people thought of you. He got it, he really did. New school, new life destiny (and didn’t they all have those: himself, Ignis, Noctis), new friends, new city, new realm of being. He’d observed you slowly open up to Ignis when it came to things like food and literature. He watched as you’d talked Noct’s ear off about magic, his Armiger, what it meant to be “the Chosen,” and if he was okay with you being in his personal service; or as you’d stuttered your way through conversation during raid battles with Prompto on King’s Knight, or after training as you’d jogged to keep up with their much longer, wider gaits.  

 

Near the end of Noct’s, Prompto’s, and your junior year of high school, Ignis had pulled him aside one afternoon as they were waiting to escort the three of you to the Citadel. You’d all managed to sneak off on them twice last week to go to the arcade instead of train (Prompto, while not a member of the Crownsguard, was still invited to the palace solely on the basis of being the prince’s best friend); and while Ignis had suspected that you’d been the sole voice of reason, your desire to be likeable and “cool” to the boys had ultimately overwhelmed you. Of course it hadn’t been your fault, Ignis had assured you as you’d cried with anxiety during training the next day, afraid of getting kicked out of the guard. Monica had laughed and eased your worry with her past exploits of being young and dumb even though she, like Ignis, was only two years older than you; and Crowe had just given you a knowing smirk, clapped you on the shoulder, and given you warning to try not to be too much “like the guys.” 

“Gladiolus,” Ignis said as he found the taller man leaning against the side of the school’s entrance twenty minutes before the final class bell. “I would have a word.” 

“What’s up, Iggy?” 

“It’s about ______.” 

“Yeah? She okay?” 

“Well, yes, I guess it could be said that she is all right, overall, in a manner of speaking. But. Has she ever said anything to you...about herself?” 

Gladio raised an eyebrow but remained silent. He knew Ignis well enough to know that he wasn’t finished voicing concerns.  

“It just...troubles me, the way that she talks sometimes. All the time. About herself.” 

“Like what?” he finally interjected although he had a pretty good idea of where this was going.  

“Apologies. I should be more specific. The way she talks about how she looks. It concerns her a great deal and is a consistent and painful thorn in her side. Has she ever spoken with you about it? Or asked your advice on anything concerning diet?” Ignis frowned at the last word. It was a known fact that Ignis  _hated_ fad diets. He’d penned many anonymous Letters to the Editor for several popular “foodie” magazines that featured such headlines as “The 10-Day Diet” or something similar, berating them for not understanding the complex needs of the human body and how “lose weight quick” schemes were always doomed to fail, imploring them to focus on well-balanced and whole food meals, to write about eating and cooking for enjoyment and longevity rather than as a means to a physical end. (To his chagrin, only one of these letters was ever published and it took up a two-page spread in the magazine; he’d been very proud of it and had kept it pinned to the cork board behind his desk for a long time.) 

Gladio shook his head. “I’ve heard her off-handedly mention her looks, but I mean, she puts herself down about damn near everything so it’s hard to remember specifics.” He huffed and adjusted his baseball cap and checked his watch. “Those brats aren’t going to get past me today,” he said, changing the subject with resolve.  

“Gladio.” 

Gladio turned back at Ignis’ use of the shortened name. “Why does _____ have you so concerned all of a sudden, man? Girl gotten under your skin? That’s a rare first.” He chuckled.  

“Indeed she has, but not in the way you’re implying. I...I cried for her the other night, Gladiolus. I cancelled a  _date_ and I cried myself to sleep over this...over  Noct’s _classmate._ ” 

“Shit, Iggy! What’s...what’d she say? Or do? That’s...that’s not like you. I’ve noticed you’ve been kinda off but I figured it was just Noct being particularly bratty.” 

Ignis sighed and adjusted his glasses. “I’m under confidence, so I’m unable to divulge specifics, but _____ has particular affections for someone that we both know.” 

Gladio raised an eyebrow. 

“And... the other night, when I took her home from the library, when she was tutoring Prompto, she seemed ruffled at your playful teasing.” 

“Wha...oh. Like me teasing Prompto about being alone with a girl? Or you ‘hogging’ her because you only took her home and not the other kids? C’mon, you know I don’t mean anything by that stuff.” 

“Well, yes, I’m certainly used to your manner of joking and showing friendly affection, and naturally after this long, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, but.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “______ seems convinced that she is so revoltingly ugly that she is unable to even entertain the thought of a member of the opposite sex being with her alone—car, library, or anywhere—of their own accord.” He paused again, trying to keep his nerves of steel and hardened self-restraint intact. “She expressed particular dislike of several of her physical attributes, namely her hands and face.” 

Gladio frowned. “Really.” 

“Among other things, she mentioned your specific type of joking, about how ‘no one would ever want to get her alone,’ so it’s best if you don’t ‘remind her of reality’ by doing your signature...flirting.” Ignis was unsure of the word but let it hang in the air like thick fog.  

Gladio’s mind tried to wrap itself around the summary of your conversation with Ignis and he found himself getting angrier and angrier. He’d heard you say quips here and there about your height (he himself was a full foot taller than you and that gave him infinite cannon fodder) or your weight (he’d offered you ice cream once and you’d patted your belly and said “Doesn’t it look like I’ve had enough ice cream?”), but not even thinking you had a pleasant face to look at? That you were doomed to be alone forever, unlovable? That you couldn’t even think of this mysterious crush returning your affections? It was more than he could stand.  

“I...I didn’t realize she thought that way. Like, really thought all that so strongly about herself.” 

Ignis nodded. “_____ is a bit of a minor linguist, like myself. She was very precise in her word choice. She’s convinced her abilities are...stunted, because she’s not lithe and tall.”  

Gladio nodded, finishing his thought. “Like almost every other Crownsguard woman.” 

“I’m not a teenage girl, Gladio. I am unsure of how to proceed in comforting her. I’ve tried to convince her of her inherent worth countless times. She’s like Noctis in meetings. In one ear and out the other.” 

Before Ignis could continue, the bell rang, and Gladio darted nearer to the entrance, prepared to be the Fun Police for an unruly prince, his medic, and his best friend. Ignis peered around him, knowing he could catch you by talking to you about your studies of the day; if you were distracted from Noctis—and especially Prompto—sufficiently, you were not lost to the admittedly more immature natures of the two boys  

As if on cue, you’d come out of the front doors almost first, clutching books, head down, hips swaying in an awkward gait as you tried to push past your classmates and into the open city air. Your eyes found Gladio and Ignis and the two of them smiled brightly and waved you over. You blushed, still in awe that you were even in the same circles as these two stunning specimens of masculinity. You shyly approached them, feeling searing heat of your peers’ stares on your back. 

“H-hey Ignis. Gladio.” You gave a quick bow.  

“Hey cutie,” Gladio replied. “C’mon, you don’t have to do all that.” 

“O-oh. I’m not...you need glasses, Gladio. But. Should I just salute instead?” You shifted your books to one arm and moved to make the Crownsguard salute.

Ignis sighed with content. “If only his Highness and Prompto were so respectful.” 

Gladio snorted. “ _That’ll_ be the day. Noct respects two things: sleep, and food. Prompto just respects...” 

“Chocobos,” you finished, and then you laughed, cheeks flushed pink with amusement at your own joke.  

Ignis gave Gladio a look, your response to Gladio’s innocent nickname not lost on him. 

Noctis and Prompto emerged from the gaggle of school kids a minute later. Prompto had his arm around Noctis in his easy, affectionate way, and the two were lost in each other, laughing. They made a move to walk the opposite way, but Gladio was on them in seconds, parting the sea of minors like a prophet and grabbing the backs of their uniform jackets with ease.  

“Hey Princess, it’s a fiiiiiiiine day for trainin’,” Gladio purred as he bent down between them. 

“Oh shit Noct, I think you should tell me when your bodyguard is gonna give me a heart attack so I can prepare next time.” Prompto clutched his left pectoral muscle.  

“Dammit Gladio, can you like. Let up for five seconds?” 

“Fat chance, brat. You’re not going to weasel your way out of this one today. And I’ll be damned if you try to drag your pretty nerdy medic down with you  _again_.” 

Prompto blushed but Gadio was focused on Noctis, so he missed it. 

“Ugh,” Noctis groaned. He shot Prompto an apologetic look. “Sorry dude. No arcade today.” 

“It’s okay bro. I guess, well I wouldn’t wanna skip out on my literature homework. I’m not out of the woods yet on grades and this upcoming group presentation is nerve wracking.” 

Gladio, satisfied, released the boys’ collars and turned back towards Ignis, but then Noctis shot Prompto another look, this one pretty devious, and before Prompto could finish shouting “Oh shit  _no,_  Noct!”, the prince had warped halfway down the street, hanging from the side of a building by a sword, and by the time Gladio had registered what was happening, Noctis had flung his sword into the distance again, hitting another building almost half a block down from the school, and Gladio was off chasing after him on foot, shouting obscenities into the void.  

Prompto was both doubled over in laughter and scared for his best friend’s actual life when he turned and saw you and Ignis, just kind of awkwardly staring at the prince’s daring escape from Gladio’s promise of a grueling afternoon training session. He jogged up to you and Ignis, and put his arm around you. You somehow managed to simultaneously stiffen and melt, and you looked up at Ignis with a pleading look, your face flushed with desperation.  

“Oh man, did you guys see that? I do  _not_ wanna be Noct when Gladdy catches up with him.” He grinned deliciously, as if Noctis’ reckless plan had been his idea. “You okay today, Specs?” 

“I’m quite well, Prompto, thank you. If you’re ready, I shall escort Miss ______ and you to the Citadel’s library. Keep in mind that it is her training day, so please be aware of the time during your tutoring session. _____, you are expected to be dressed and in the training facility at precisely 1800 hours, though I doubt I have to remind you of protocol.”  

You nodded, but you couldn’t move. Prompto still had half his weight on you, leaning, like he did on Noctis, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out. 

“Now then,” said Ignis. “Prompto, if you’ll kindly release his highness’ medic and follow me to the car.” 

“Uh, oh! Right. Sorry dude. Let’s go do a literature project!” he sang happily.  

Prompto withdrew and you immediately missed his warmth. You watched him bounce after Ignis for a few seconds before reminding your feet to move, and you followed after them.  


	8. Altissia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is the best wingman ever, and Gladio has shown you how to tie knots (as well as answered a few of your more devious questions). You get some confidence in the bedroom and Prom is INTO it. He just wants to be a good boy. 
> 
> or,
> 
> The reader completely dominates Prompto Argentum until he can't remember who he is and he loves it, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some good shit before all the canon FFXV bad shit. Balance.

“Check out this  _view!_ It’s... _viewtiful_!” said Prompto excitedly from the front of the gondola.  

His terrible pun earned groans from the entire party, including yourself, as he snapped all the pictures he could stand of the scenery as the five of you sailed leisurely along the decadent city’s watery avenues. You had to agree with him though...you’d never been outside of Lucis before, and certainly never across the ocean to a foreign country such as Accordo. The culture was something you’d read about more than a handful of times...there had to be architecture that was at least a thousand years old. The art museums had been calling your name all day and the five of you had barely been here for a few hours. Ignis was, naturally, enraptured with the cuisine and spices. Gladio was more than content with admiring the local (and infinitely posh) female residents; Noctis was biting the inside of his cheek, silently mulling over what he was going to say to Secretary Claustra and nervously anticipating seeing Lunafreya for the first time in over twelve years, even though they were no longer expected to get married.  

It was no secret that your family was from a lower class than most native Insomnians, which is why association with the Crownsguard gave you a leg up in life that you wouldn’t have had otherwise. Your family wasn’t  _poor_ by any stretch of the imagination, but being lower middle-class had not afforded you the luxuries of extensive travel, and so you soon found yourself as lost in the scenery of the utterly foreign and beautiful place as Prompto was.  

It had been a long journey to get here; a secret steal to Cape Caem to help Cid and Cindy fix Regis’ old yacht; the plunging into a temple in Vesperpool to find mythril to fix the boat and the unexpected help there from the Chancellor and Aranea (who seemed oddly protective of you, aside from chastising you to “get your head out of your ass,” “heal faster,” and to—thankfully, when the two of you had been alone in a hallway—“fuck that poor blond’s brains out, for the love of the Six”); the death of Jared Hester and the subsequent relocation of Iris, Monica, Dustin, and Talcott to stay at the cape to avoid further involvement from Niflheim...a long, emotional journey that none of you had been prepared for. But you’d all had each other, and that had been enough. 

You were still all together, finally here in your original target location: Altissia. Lady Lunafreya’s wedding dress had been beautiful, goddess-like, ethereal—you had briefly wondered what it would be like to wear such a garment. The food, while intoxicating, was quickly draining the royal bank account. Even Ignis was outpriced in the cafes, so instead of getting a whole cup of gelato to yourself that morning, you and Prompto had had to share a child’s size, which had afforded you about four bites each, but you hadn’t minded, especially when he’d kissed you afterwards, in public, and he’d tasted like chocolate and coffee. It was also when he remarked “Wow you’re actually eating a dessert!” that you realized just how long he’d been observing you. _Years. I’ve avoided eating desserts in public for_ years. It was incredible, then, how long he had actually been secretly pining for you back, you’d figured out. The journey over the waves had allowed the two of you a long time to talk—and a quickie below deck when the two of you were supposedly “napping.” (It was never said out loud who’d won the “more sex than you” challenge Prompto had issued back in Lestallum, but you’d caught Gladio slipping him a small drawstring pouch of what you could only guess was gil, and for a moment, Gladio’s playboy persona had waned, and you’d teased him about it for several days before he’d threatened to actually kill you in your sleep.) 

With the looming ritual that was to be enacted by Lady Lunafreya for the purpose of Noctis coming into contract with the Hydrean, Leviathan herself, everyone seemed to be holding their breath; and you were just relishing being in the presence of Prompto, uncertain of what the coming days would bring.  

 

A certain Ignis Scientia, in addition to being the master strategist for their plan to keep the empire out of the impending battle of Noctis and the sea goddess, had additional plans up his perfectly pressed designer sleeves. Lunafreya’s address and the rite was still two days away. That afforded him one day to act on an idea he’d been having for a long, long time.  

The strategist had, miraculously, managed to secure two rooms at Altissia’s own Leville Hotel; adding to his master foresight, they were adjacent and not directly beside one another. He’d handed a set of keys to you and said, “Enjoy, my dear,” as he took his own key packet and headed for the elevator with the other two in tow.  

You and Prompto had just looked at him, dumbfounded; and then at each other, tentatively, before breaking out into a mutual blush.  

Prompto chuckled nervously. “Good ol’ Iggy,” he croaked out. “Well, uh. Shall we go?” 

You’d just nodded, still amazed at the normally frugal man’s delightful and unexpected gift as you followed after the slender blond, hopping into an empty elevator.  

The both of you reached the floor and found the room, already hearing three familiar voices from the room across the hall. You slid the key card into the box on the door and it clicked open, revealing an opulent suite with a large king bed in the middle and a wide glass door that revealed a breathtaking ocean view. There was a plush armchair in the corner, a desk, a floor lamp, and two bedside tables on either side of the giant bedframe. The bathroom was immediately to the right of the entrance, and the spacious walk-in shower was already giving you a hundred _ideas._ What impressed you most about the hotel room was the furniture, because goddamn, everything was lined in  _gold._

You stepped in a little bit and dropped your bag, still trying to process your surroundings, the outside view, and the realization that  _you_ and  _Prompto_ had your own  _room_.  

He’d let the door slowly close on its own and kicked his suitcase halfway into the bathroom before coming up behind you and wrapping you up in those strong, lean arms, pushing his face into your neck and inhaling deeply.  

“G-good ol Iggy indeed,” you breathed out before you felt teeth on your neck and then Prompto was sucking hard, effectively short-circuiting your brain, grazing teeth and tongue over soft, pale skin. Your moans only spurred him on to suck harder, but he finally let go with a _pop_ and gingerly touched the reddening spot.  

“Oops.” 

“Oops?” You were breathless. “Prompto, did you just give me a fucking hickey?” 

“Uh. Maybe?” His voice did that little half-octave rise that happened whenever he was stupidly excited about something. It was the cutest thing you’d ever heard in your life.  

You turned around, but he was all bright eyes and flushed face and toothy, seductive grin, and you knew that there was no way you could stay mad at him. “Well,” you brought your fingers up to dance along his collarbones, relishing his shiver and corresponding goosebumps; marveling at his now half-closed eyes and flushed, freckled cheeks. “Looks like you’ve been a bad boy.” 

His eyes snapped open and he sucked air through his teeth.  

You forced yourself to neutrally stare at him as you continued to lightly graze his neck, his jawline, the flushed skin just above the edge of his sleeveless shirt and vest. You licked your lips and bit them in what you hoped was a vibe of “sexy, dominant woman going after the object of her desire.”  

Prompto didn’t move. He was frozen under your ministrations, breath erratic and blood pounding in his ears. You grew bolder, running your hands flush against his chest, under his vest but still over his shirt, stopping over his pecs and lightly pinching his nipples.  

He actually fucking  _whined_ and it was all you could do to keep standing on wobbly knees. He’d tilted his head back to look at the ceiling somewhere in the middle of all of this, but when your short little fingers played with the bottom edge of his shirt and began their ascent, skin to skin, he jolted forward and  _begged._

“___________. Please.” 

“Mmmmm,” you’d sighed, lifting his shirt as your hands continued upward, ogling his toned body, the happy trail of little blond hair that disappeared below his belt and coeurl-print pants that sat deliciously low on his hips. Your hands found each of his nipples again and you pinched them a second time, then quickly ghosted your fingers over them, gently, before pinching again.  

The alternating sensations sent the rest of the sharpshooter’s resolve out of the window and down to the depths of the ocean, and he grabbed your wrists firmly. “____________.” He met your gaze, eyes hungry and pleading. 

Your eyes flicked downward for just a second and noticed that the front of his pants was bulging, hard muscle moving of its own volition, desperate to be freed. But as much as you relished being taken by him, you were in a mood to  _do_ the taking. You wanted to take Prompto  Argentum apart, piece by piece, and then put him back together. You wanted to  _own_  him as much as he owned you. You wanted to make him feel wanted and loved. You wanted to touch him, taste him, make him beg, make him scream your name until it was the only word he remembered how to say. And after some long conversations with Gladio, you felt that you were finally prepared to turn the tables.  

You brought your eyes from his erection up to meet his gaze, crystal blue barely visible around dark dilated pupils. His breaths were short and his lip was quivering.  

“Yes?”  _Gods this is going to be so hard. Does he really know the effect he has on me?_  

“Please.” 

“Please what, Prompto?” 

“Let me make love to you. You look so beautiful right now. Please. I need you.”  

“Mmmmmm, I like that idea very much. But. There are some things I want to do first.” You slipped one wrist from his grasp and brought it up to his cheek, caressing it before moving your fingers closer to his mouth and running your thumb over his shaky bottom lip. “Do you think you can be a good boy for me, Prom?” 

Something snapped in Prompto’s brain. He’d never seen you look this way before, or talk to him with this much resolve in your voice. You asking him to be a  _good boy_ was objectively the hottest question he’d ever heard in his life, and he guessed he had a sub kink now, because damn if he didn’t want to be everything you ever needed in this moment, and for all eternity.  

“Yes,” he breathed as he leaned into your hand. He brought his own hand up to cover yours as you continued to rub his cheek. His other hand left your wrist and he let his arm hang limply at his side. You brought your other hand up to the other cheek, framing his face, and pulled him down those few inches of distance to place a few wet pecks on his lips and nothing more.  

“Oh I know, Prompto. I know you’ll be such a good boy for me. My sweet sunshine, my beautiful boy, you’re so good. So good for me,” you breathed, hardly believing the words leaving your own lips but once they were out in the open, they felt so _right._  

Prompto choked out a sob and thought that he’d never been so fucking turned on his short life. He opened his eyes, slight tears having formed around the edges. “Gods, ___________. Tell me...tell me what you want me to do.” 

You grinned, and you had him. “Will you take your clothes off for me? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you. Please let me see you, Prompto.” 

He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard as he slowly took off all of his clothes—except for that one damn bracelet, but you didn’t question it—and soon he was standing naked before you, cock pulsating hard between his legs, slit already wet with precum. 

You stood there for what felt like hours, just admiring him, having the audacity to lick your thick, red lips. You wondered vaguely if you’d ever be able to count all of his freckles. He was all pale muscle, tinged with pink— _full-body blusher, I still can’t get over that_ —and the longer you tore him apart with your eyes, the more breathless he got.  

Finally, you snapped back to reality and stepped closer to him, and trailed your fingers lightly round the base of his cock, wrapping one hand around it and giving it a few soft strokes.  

The sounds that Prompto stuttered out were fuel enough for a hundred wet dreams alone. When he inevitably bucked his hips forward under your touch, you pulled away suddenly, leaving him to whine in loss. He opened his eyes and looked at you, already wrecked under your touch and your gaze.  

 _Oh gods, I didn’t realize this was going to be so...fun._ “Don’t worry, baby. You’re going to get it. Good boys get rewarded.” You smiled.  

Prompto swallowed hard, mouth suddenly very dry. He nodded.  

“Can you climb onto the bed for me? Lie on your back, and don’t move.”  _Clear, direct, simple commands. Just like_ _Gladio_ _advised._  As Prompto did as you requested, you squatted and dug into your suitcase for the focal point of the evening. You stood, object in hand, and brought it up into Prompto’s line of sight.  

And if his eyes could get any wider, or his cock any more erect, they both did. “That’s... oh gods, ______________,” his breath hitched in his throat, and his toes curled in shivering anticipation. “R-rope,” he squeaked.  

“Very good, Prompto. I have to make sure you’re a good boy, is that okay?” 

Prompto just stared, not knowing if he even had enough blood flow left to his brain to answer your questions anymore. He just nodded again.  

You put the soft red rope on the edge of the bed and began to undress yourself, smiling as you heard Prompto moan at each reveal of a bare body part. No closed eyes or worries here, now—you were apologetically fat and beautiful and bare before him, and if the Hydrean appeared now and killed you both in a fit of rage, knowing that Prompto Argentum was naked and hard on a bed just for you would’ve made the perfect last thought.  

Weeks of secret knot-tying lessons from Gladio were put to work now as you thanked the gods that the large, ornate bed had a headboard with curved openings carved into it, perfect for typing rope around. Prompto didn’t move—he didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to, anyway—as you brought the rope around and around each of his wrists in a binding that was tight enough to keep him in place but loose enough to not cut off blood circulation.  

“Tug on those for me, my sweet boy. Are they too tight?” 

Prompto yanked, giving it every ounce of strength he had. The knots held expertly. The blond was propped up on large fluffy pillows near the head of the bed, tied to the headboard by soft red rope, face flushed and eyes dizzy with lust, cock bouncing desperately against rock-hard abs, leaving a thin trail of precum to connect to his body every time it bobbed up with heavy need.  

Altissia was beautiful, but the scene laid out before you was positively gorgeous and breathtaking in every sense of the word. You’d been straddling his chest as you’d tied him, grinding your warm core against him, so close yet so far away from his eager and hungry mouth, your thick thighs gripping his ribs hard, fleshy stomach heated with the inhales and exhales of his nose. You begrudgingly lifted yourself off of Prompto and stood beside the bed, admiring your handiwork. Suddenly you broke into your own version of a shit-eating grin and stared him dead in the eyes.  

“Wait. Let me get this shot.” 

Prompto closed his eyes and rasped out a few loud chuckles as you found your phone among your discarded clothes and recorded your handiwork.  

“Don’t worry. No one will ever see it. Trust me,” you purred. “I just couldn’t resist, Prom. You’re being so good for me.” You leaned down and kissed his sweaty forehead, making sure to angle your breasts just so. You grinned as you felt his tongue flick out and catch your nipple. You pulled away fast and caught his jaw in a firm grip. “I just get finished praising you and you go and do something like that. Hmmm. I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment.” You released his face and backed away from the bed. “They say that the best ideas come to you in the shower. So. I think I’ll go take one now. Be a good boy and wait for me.” 

You heard him whine and actually start to cry out your name as you grabbed your suitcase and walked into the bathroom. It took every ounce of self-control you had not to touch yourself under the hot water, but the thought of Prompto giving you multiple orgasms turned you off the idea of your own hand pretty quickly. You made sure to scrub your scalp with shampoo and conditioner twice; you treated your body to the lavender-scented sea salt scrub Iris had gifted you back in Lestallum, following up with soap. And then, you brought out a fresh disposable razor and small bottle of shaving cream, and you shaved literally everything.  

Finally done steaming up the bathroom, you turned off the impossibly hot water, immediately missing the feeling of an actual shower (Gladio’s camping was less than glamorous, and you’d honestly never gotten used to it), dried off, blow-dried your hair after putting some light product in it, and stepped back out into the room.  

Prompto was where you left him, of course. Eyes closed in deep meditation, cock softened slightly but still hard and jutting out deliciously between lean, supple thighs. You couldn’t remember if you’d ever worn makeup in front of Prompto before, but you supposed that there was a first time for everything. You’d managed to pick up, at a gas station no less, a nice shade of lip color somewhere between the color of milk chocolate and coffee-flavored gelato, knowing that brown-tinted lipsticks looked better on you than flashy, loud red. You had this color on your lips now, and you smirked as Prompto’s eyes snapped open and his mouth formed a small _o_ at realizing that you had even a smidge of makeup on. You climbed on the bed and crawled towards him on all fours, grabbing one perfect foot and proceeding to kiss from his ankle all the way up to his inner thigh, stopping just before you put your mouth on his balls, letting your warm breath ghost over them instead. You sat up on your haunches, admiring your handiwork of lip prints scattered like stars up the length of his left leg.  

You looked at Prompto’s face. You couldn’t read his expression. “Prom,” you said softly. “Are you okay? Do we need to stop?” 

He’d been so engrossed in watching you climb and kiss your way up his lower body that he didn’t register you sitting up beside him. He turned to you now. He furrowed his brows and found his voice. “Don’t...don’t you dare fucking stop this,” he choked, and then he kind of growled and gyrated his hips. “Please...____________. Have your way with me. Break me.” 

“Oh, Prompto.” You moved to straddle him again, and you kissed him deeply, desperately. You moved to the side to whisper in his ear after breaking the kiss. “Your safe word is  _chocobo,_ all right? And I would never, ever get upset at you for using it. Do you understand?” You sat back up around him.  

“Yes,” he breathed, softly.  

You drug your nails down his chest, absentmindedly playing connect-the-dots with his freckles. “You’ve been such a good boy, Prompto. But. I still need to punish you from earlier. Such a needy mouth you have. Hm? What do you have to say for yourself?” You wiggled around his waist, rocking your wet core down onto his stomach.  

“Ah, I... I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it...I can’t help but taste you when you’re that close...” 

“Mmmmm, you’re so good for being honest. Tell me what you were thinking, Prom.” 

He swallowed hard again. This was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I... I was thinking about how soft your tits are, _____________. They’re so big and soft and sexy, and your nipples...so hard and pink when you’re turned on...I. I just want to suck the life of out of you.” His freckles were lost under the darkest shade of pink he’d been since this whole thing started as he talked.  

Your clenched your muscles and rocked back a little, insanely turned on by hearing him talk so specifically about one part of your body. “Fuck, Prom, you’re so good to me. So good for me, my beautiful sunshine. You deserve a reward. I can’t let you go yet, but. Tell me where you want your mouth.” You smiled at him. “Good boys get to use their mouths.”  

Prompto’s face twisted in thought for just a few seconds before he gazed at you with the most loving expression you’d seen. “Please, _____________. Sit on my face.” 

You paused for just a moment, controlling persona gone. “Okay, Prompto. Realistically, you do realize you still need to breathe, right? I’m a lot of woman. And your hands are tied, you can’t like, lift me up or anything.” 

He smirked in spite of his position. “I am a grown ass man. I will find a way to breathe. And if I die buried in your pussy, I guess that would be the best possible way to go.” 

You snorted as you broke out into a full-bodied laugh, Prompto doing the same. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. Please.” He closed his eyes and opened them again, his face melting back into the look he’d had ever since you’d tied him up. “Let me be your good boy.” 

You inhaled sharply and steeled your resolved then, scooting up and placing your legs on either side of his face. You brought your hands in front of you and braced yourself on the headboard and tentatively brought yourself down over his eager mouth.  

Ever since he’d first eaten you out in the hotel room at the Leville in Lestallum, Prompto had been keen on making sure to do it to you every time the two of you had sex, and he did it first, every time. He was so eager to please he almost got off on it, and each time, he got better and better. “Practice makes perfect,” he’d always laugh and say before flicking his tongue against your clitoris.  

This afternoon’s scenario was no different, although you briefly realized that he wouldn’t have those lovely long trigger fingers of his to thrust inside of you as you rode out your orgasm.  _A small sacrifice for the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,_ you thought as you slowly lost yourself around Prompto’s mouth. You were cautious to let up every so often to make sure he had enough oxygen, but with all the buildup, it didn’t take you long to come, gushing around his face with wild abandon, moaning his name. In your orgasmic haze, a thought crossed your mind and you managed to scoot up even further and grind your clit against his nose for several more seconds before reaching the point of over-stimulation. On shaking limbs, you crawled back down until you were straddling his waist again. His entire face was sweaty and slick with your juices, but his eyes were closed and he was smiling contentedly, licking around his lips as far as he could reach, in any direction, in order to taste as much of you as possible. You laid on his chest, panting and coming down from your high.  

“Fuck, Prom,” you moaned. “You’re so good. You’re being such a good boy.” You sat up again, steadying yourself on his chiseled form. 

He opened his eyes and hummed, still smiling at you, almost smirking, seeing if he could break your act.  

You reached down behind you and grabbed his long-neglected cock, and he hissed sharply, all thought of turning the tides abandoned. “But now it’s my turn.” 

 

Prompto had always had stamina, he knew that. At least half the time, he’d come at least two or three times in succession before being finished; and he did a pretty good job of holding out and not being a two-pump chump, even when he was alone with a porn video or his wild imagination. Even when he’d lost his virginity to a one-night stand he’d met in a bar in a rare moment of trying to forget about you, the tipsy girl had turned over and fallen asleep after she’d gotten hers, and he’d had to jerk off two more times before he went soft and passed out.  

Still. He’d never really been  _edged_ or  _denied_ before, and the sensation was driving him beyond mad. You’d been touching him all over for some indeterminate amount of time, alternating between nails and soft fingertips; nipples raw and red and hard from both kisses and bites. You’d sucked him to near-release at least three times now in the middle of other ministrations on his body, including kissing along the length of his  _right_ leg this time so that he’d be symmetrical in chocolate lip prints.  

You were lying beside him, fondling his balls for the umpteenth time, lazily dragging your tongue across his soft velvet head, relishing the light taste of salty precum. Prompto had been actually choking out small sobs mixed with half-pleas and your name for the last thirty minutes.  

“Prompto,” you sang. You sat up and situated yourself just above his leaking cock. "I think your punishment is over."

He threw his head back. “Oh gods, ____________, please! Please, please....” 

“Please what? Use your words, Prom. Be a good boy.” 

“Please,” he choked out, voice hoarse and lips dry. “Please let me come.” 

“Mmmmm, you’ve been a very good boy. So good for me, so perfect. You’re so beautiful like this, so wrecked. Good boys get rewarded, Prompto. And you’ve been so, so good.” Sitting up, you moved to straddle him again. You grabbed the base of his cock, guided it to you, and sat down on him, moaning in tandem with him as you took him in fully and he bottomed out inside of you, balls-deep inside your warm walls. His body convulsed in pleasure and his legs began to shake as he pumped up into you, hard, his aching cock finally getting relief. Your core strength wasn’t the best, but you steadied yourself on his hard stomach and rolled your hips with purpose. 

He came hard just minutes later, spilling into you with loud, desperate groans and half-formed words with no meaning. Your name was still on his lips as you felt him jerk up into you again, cock still hard. You moved in different rhythms on top of him, getting yourself off for the second time that afternoon. You were shaky and your legs were aching, but you weren’t done. You bounced up and down on Prompto, slamming your big, soft body down hard on his sharp hips, nails digging into pale freckled skin as you shook with pleasure on top of him, breathlessly praising his name, begging him to come again for you.  

And he eventually did so, guttural cries accompanying his second release, and you rolled your hips until you couldn’t stand the burning of your thigh muscles anymore. You stopped, leaning over his stomach and putting your weight on him. You felt him grow soft inside of you, finally, and you lifted one leg and flopped to the side.  

A minute later found you remembering that Prompto was still tied, and you rushed quickly to the head of the bed, cutting him loose, undoing the knots with fervor. He quite literally sank into your arms and wrapped his own shaky limbs around you, burying his face between your breasts, sliding one knee between your legs, pushing up into your wet and still-sensitive core. You played with his hair while he came back down to Eos, quietly whispering how much you loved him, kissing the top of his head.  

Finally, he spoke. “Holy shit, ____________.” 

“Hi Prom.” You giggled. “You okay? Too much?” 

“No, I. Fuck,” he whispered against your skin. He scooted away from you slightly so he could look at you. He brought his head up to kiss you deeply, relishing the taste of his own precum that was still on your lips. His tongue flicked along your lips and you parted for him, and you moaned as you tasted yourself on him in turn. After long, breathless kisses, he grabbed your face in his hand, impossibly blue eyes staring into your soul. “Fuck. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you. That was...too much and not enough, at the same time.” He smiled. “It was great. You were so great. Better than great. Amazing. Perfect.” 

“Yeah?” You blushed. “I’ve...of course I’ve never done anything like that. In my wildest school girl fantasies about you, sure. But. I didn’t think I’d ever actually be good at it.” You kissed his nose.  

“Yeah, well. You were good.  _Very_ good. Hopefully, uh. Hopefully I was good.” 

“You were...are...absolute perfection, Prompto Argentum, in every way, shape, and form. Please believe that.” 

He laughed nervously. “Oh man. You know, you know why that was so sexy for the both of us?” 

“Because we both suffer from literal debilitating cases of impostor syndrome and we thrive on validation? Oh yeah buddy, we’re two goddamn peas in a pod here. Don’t worry. I’ve got us all figured out.” You laughed.  

Prompto laughed big and loud at your psychoanalysis, then kissed you again. “No matter what your dumb brain tells you, _____________, just know that you will  _always_ be enough—more than enough—for me.” 

“I could say the same for you. I love you so much. I hope you always feel how much I love you, Prompto.” You sighed and leaned your forehead against his. 

You stayed like that for a while before Prompto spoke again, a little more quietly. “So, uh. Who do I have to thank for the knot and dominatrix lessons?” 


	9. Interlude: Noctis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Reader coming to the capitol of Insomnia for the first time and her early interactions with Noct. 
> 
> or
> 
> Noctis will fight anyone that hates on his friends, even if his friends are the ones hating on themselves. Reader has a moment of badassery when dealing with bullies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ultimate perception of Noctis is that he's just a really genuine guy and that he cares about those close to him, so I wanted to explore a different dynamic of him and the Reader. I hope I do okay. I think he's the hardest for me to write, so. Sorry if this sucks or whatever.

If anyone had actually ever asked Noctis whether he needed a medic on his slow-forming royal retinue, he would’ve scoffed. He had command over elemental and healing magic just fine, and Ignis was becoming very proficient in his own right in Glaive training. So when his father had called him into his office one Saturday afternoon and introduced him to a short, plump, nondescript teenage girl, he raised an eyebrow cautiously. The girl’s face flushed upon seeing him—that, he was used to, with fawning classmates and all—and she hastily bowed. Two other commoners, who he guessed to be the girl’s parents, were hovering nearby, a with a couple of toddlers and a baby in tow. Cor was standing near the door, arms folded and expression neutral. 

“Don’t be shy, my dear. Introduce yourself,” said his father, bright-eyed.  

“Oh! Uh, right,” the girl said. “Hello, your Highness. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is ______.” 

“Hi,” Noctis breathed. “I’m Noct. So...who are you?” 

“Oh, you...you mean what do I mean to you?” The girl fidgeted a little.  

“Noctis, don’t be rude,” said Regis.  

“Wasn’t trying to be?” 

“It’s fine Your Majesty.” ___________ met the prince’s dark stare and smiled nervously. “Um, you see, Your Highness...” 

“Noct, please.” 

She looked to the King, then to Cor, then back to the King, then back to Noctis, looking for silent affirmation that the familiar nickname was okay to use. Regis just nodded. “He’s never been one for titles, ____________. If that’s what he wants you to call him, do so.” 

“Oh. Right, okay. Yeah.” ___________ turned back to Noctis. “Noct,” she continued. “I, um. I can wield magic. Like, your magic? I don’t know how or why, I just...can? So. So me and my family moved here so I can start Crownsguard training.” 

Noctis kind of grinned and folded his arms. “Wow, really? That’s impressive. So the gods picked you, huh? They sure do have odd whims.” 

“Yeah...imagine stocky little me at ten years old sneezing and setting the curtains on fire.” She chuckled and looked at Regis, who smiled.  

Noctis raised an eyebrow again and tilted his head. “So wait. You’ve had this magic for...how old are you?” 

“I’m sixteen.” 

“Huh. You’ve had this magic for six years and you’re just now here? Why didn’t you come here sooner?” 

“Ah! My...my apologies!” ___________ gave another hasty bow. “My parents thought I was too young, so I’ve just been doing a lot of reading and practicing on my own. Besides, it took us a while to save up the money to move.” 

Noct pressed his lips into a thin line and hummed.  

“So, so anyway, what His Majesty and the Marshal were thinking, is that, I could maybe be part of  _your_ Crownsguard, Noctis. Noct. I’ve already been introduced to Ignis and Gladiolus.” 

Noct snorted at Gladio’s full name. He turned to his father. “Dad, you really think she’s fit for the job? Besides, Ignis and I both know elemancy.” He turned to the girl. “No offense, but that’s like, a lot of hands in the pot. But I’m sure you’ll get along nicely with the others.” 

_____________ bowed her head, but it snapped up a minute later, a different look in her eyes. She brought her right hand up and to the left at eye level, then whipped it back to the right, and in a flash of blue, Noctis’ engine blade was out of his Armiger and in her hand, which slumped a little under the unfamiliar weight.  

Cor snorted out a laugh. His father cut Noctis a look. The prince stood there, dumbfounded, at how easily this outside could access the royal arms, their magic,  _his_  magic.  _What are the gods playing at?_   

“Astrals,” Noctis breathed out.  

_____________ released the sword and just stared at him. “Please, Noct. At least let me try to convince you. If...if in a year you still think I’m not good enough to serve you, I’ll join the ranks of the other Crownsguard.” 

Noctis turned to his father. “Can I...can I talk to you? Privately?” 

Regis looked at Cor. “Marshal, would you escort our guests down to the East Wing dining room. I’m sure they’re hungry after their long day here. His Highness and I will catch up shortly.” 

Cor nodded and ushered ______________ and her family out of the king’s study, all of them bowing and thanking him and Noctis for their hospitality.  

Noctis had his arms folded again and just glared at his father for a long time. 

“Yes?” Regis finally said.  

“Dad. What does this mean? This girl, her command of Lucian magic.” 

The king shrugged. “I’m not sure, exactly, but I know that it is of no consequence that she has come to us at such a crucial time. The Niflheim empire has been causing serious disturbances lately, and we need all the help we can get.” 

“But, from...her? She hardly looks the part of a soldier.” 

“Looks can be deceiving. And not all soldiers are trained in active combat. Cor and I have decided to take her on to train as a Healer. She’ll learn not only to heal, but to be a physical nurse as well. Set bones, perform minor surgeries, anything that might be needed on a battlefield. And, provided she does well, she’ll be formally drafted when she turns eighteen. And she’ll be part of  _your_ retinue.” Regis stood. “She’ll be transferring to your school next week, so I suggest you try to be at least somewhat friendly with her.” 

Noctis shrugged, the matter apparently closed. He was getting a medic, whether he wanted one or not. He was still going to hold her to their deal, though; let the other Crownsguard have her if she couldn’t meet his—or Ignis’ or Gladio’s—standards. “So...so her powers are really the same as mine? Or Ignis’s?” He moved towards the door to follow his father out.  

“She passed every initial test we threw at her with flying colors. She’s a deadeye shot with elemental attacks, and she can restore health or vitality as well as almost any Glaive.” 

He was following his father down long corridors, now, still mulling over this strange intrusion into his royal life.  

“Besides,” his father continued, “in the heat of battle, if you or Ignis are so focused on fighting, wouldn’t it be nice to have a backup guard whose sole job was to make sure you don’t die?” 

Noct sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. Not that he was slow at producing a potion and using it, but sometimes those few seconds cost him dearly and Gladio was knocking him on his feet with his oversize sword again and laughing.  

 

And so Noctis (half-heartedly, at first) threw himself into getting to know this—well, honestly, country bumpkin is what he thought of ___________ at first, but over the next few months, he really began to see her for what she was: an understated genius when it came to analytical literature, and a quick learner when it came to actual, formal elemancy training. ___________ always addressed him nervously at first and he had to constantly reassure her that no, she wasn’t bothering him with questions. He thought her accent was kind of endearing, but noticed that she tried to enunciate and pronounce words more like a crown citizen the more she interacted with him. He found her hilariously funny, actually; Gladio seemed to think so too, and Ignis was similarly fascinated with ___________’s book smarts. Noctis never thought much about what she looked like physically. He’d been a little immature with people of size in his youth, but he’d since grown out of that. He cared more that she cared about her duty as a Crownsguard. It was he who suggested that she get a tattoo of the guard coat of arms when she came of age. Her eyes and gone wide and then watered, as if he’d just asked her to marry him. It was the best suggestion she’d ever heard of in her life, she’d said. “Being here gives me purpose, Noct. My life is in service to the Crown of Lucis.” 

Yeah. It went without saying that in her own quiet way, __________ managed to win over Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio pretty quickly, even though she was constantly remarking how ordinary she was. And then Prompto Argentum entered the picture, and Noct noticed a...change.  

 

___________ was already an anxious being—he could see that like he could see his hand in front of his face, and further conversations with Ignis proved as much, medically. In spite of her need for almost near-constant validation, she had, over the course of just a few short months, grown more comfortable with him as kind of a friend, playing King’s Knight with him after training was over, or just talking about her old life back in the Leide region. Once she got talking about something she liked—she and Ignis could talk about the  _Cosmogony_ forever, Noctis deducted—it was like pulling teeth to get her to go quiet, but Noct rarely minded. It was kind of nice to have a girl in his close circles. It was different, it was good. But once Prompto came into the picture and had taken to Noctis like a bird to the air, ___________’s shyness came back with a vengeance and she could hardly stutter out three words around the guy. Which was annoying, because Prompto was  _always_ around. She only existed in normal conversation with him in text messages (getting her to give him her phone number had taken a week of coaxing) or on King’s Knight chat servers. Her face turned a deep shade of red whenever she looked at him, which was saying something, because she was almost always red-faced around any of them, but the reaction she had to Prompto was on another level.  

Noctis wasn’t dull about a lot of things, and dating was never on his radar (he doubted he’d be allowed to, anyway), but he knew the general sense of liking someone as more than a friend; and ___________  _definitely_ had the signs of liking Prompto as something more. It was kind of cute to watch, some days. Other days he wanted to slam their heads together in his infinite frustration. But it was a private conversation in a rare Prompto-less moment that struck his heart deep.  

“Hey, Noctis.” 

He’d gotten used to her switching from full name to nickname, and it didn’t get under his skin much anymore. That was just her, her anxiety telling her that she’d be too informal at the wrong moment and the Crown Prince would cease being so nice to her. They’d had  _that_ conversation a hundred times and she still did it, so it was whatever at this point. Noctis realized he’d just have to assuage her fears every time. “What’s up, ____________?” 

“So, I’m sorry of this is weird or whatever, but I just. I have to get it off my chest.” 

“Okay?... Shoot.” 

___________ huffed, closing her eyes so that she could concentrate on her words. “So. I’m just...I’m sorry that I’m not prettier. Y’know. As part of the Prince’s personal retinue, I guess I just...I’m sorry I don’t fit the mold? Like. I know I don’t  _look_ like the others in the guard. So I’m sorry about that.”  

Noctis raised an eyebrow.  _Where is this coming from?_ “Uh. I don’t...what do you mean? You look...fine? You look like you? What does...being pretty have to do with being a combat medic?” 

___________ laughed nervously. “I mean, I dunno. It’s just. You and Ignis and Gladio are all guys and you’re all so...pretty. Like literally.” She stared him dead in the face with big, sad, brown eyes. “And I’m a girl and if I could be, like, one-sixteenth as attractive as you, I’d be set for life.” 

Noctis snorted and hung his head. He’d never thought of himself as  _pretty_ before. It was kind of amusing. He looked back at her, and his heart clenched. She looked heartbroken. “Hey! Hey, listen. What’s this about? I don’t care what you look like? Which is fine, by the way, like I said? You look fine. Why...are people making fun of you or something? Cuz I’ll kick their ass.”  

“I mean...sometimes. It’s not always to my face, you know. I hear whispers, or snickers. Like when I go into the bathroom at school all conversation stops and then they giggle and then I just have to fucking barricade myself in a stall and then get out of there as fast as I can.” 

Noctis’ nostrils flared in anger and suddenly his sense of self-preservation extended beyond himself and out to his friend. His medic, his healer. His  _Crownsguard._ “Do...have you tried talking to the teachers at school? Pretty sure we have like. A zero-tolerance policy or bullying or whatever.” 

She shook her head. “It’s...it’s not worth the effort. Besides I’m afraid of retaliation. I take the path of least resistance, and I hate confrontation, you know that.” 

“Dude. You can summon lightning. I can summon lightning. We can summon lightning together and fry ‘em to a crisp if that’s what you want.” 

____________ put her hands up defensively. “Ah, no! It’s not...I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I just...I wanted to...” 

“Stop,” said Noctis. “I want you to stop apologizing for everything. You’re not bothering me when you ask questions about magic or the Lucii or whatever. And you definitely don’t have to apologize for how you look? Because I don’t really get where that’s coming from.” 

_____________ had quiet tears running down her face. “Noct...I’m sorry, I know I’m being stupid, I just...my self-esteem is shit, you know? It’s not easy for me to make friends. I’m awkward as hell and you guys are really the only people I talk to, and I just...I don’t want to lose you. I feel like I just don’t fit in. I feel so special, being part of this...inner circle, especially with royalty, and I’m constantly on edge, waiting for it to be taken away from me. I don’t think I could stand it.” 

“Hey. C’mere.” Noctis reached out and drug ___________ into a side hug. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she sniffled. “You’re not going to lose us. Specs and Gladio think the world of you. Cor can’t stop fucking talking about how talented you are. And I think my dad is nicer to you than he is to me.”  

That drew out a small laugh and Noctis smiled. “Besides. You need to remember who you are. You are a  _Crownsguard._ You’re  _mine._ Who the fuck cares what you look like? You’re the youngest medic we have and that’s pretty badass. And I think you’re pretty enough, so. And I’m the prince and my opinion should matter the most, right?” 

____________ had kind of almost stopped breathing when Noctis had pulled her to him, and her breath hitched in her throat when called her pretty. She didn’t believe him, but it was enough. She sighed and let out a small “Thanks, Noct.”  

Noctis smiled. He didn’t expect to let her in so easily but there was just something about her that drew him to her. Except, one thing was bothering him about the whole conversation. He smirked. “So you think the three of us are pretty, but what about Prompto? Is he pretty?” 

He felt her shoulders ruffle and ___________ suddenly stiffened.  

“Ah,” she said. “I mean...that’s not a fair question? I think everyone is prettier than I am? Shit self-esteem, remember.” 

Noctis smirked and just kind of hummed. “Have you told Gladio he’s pretty? I’m sure he’ll love that.” 

___________ sat up and glared daggers at Noctis, who stayed smirking. “Dude. If that guy’s ego gets any bigger, he’d rival Niflheim for control of Eos.” 

Noctis broke into a loud laugh, with ____________ following, amused at her own joke.  

“So, no. It does not make any logical sense for me to tell Gladio I think he’s pretty. He might get offended anyway. He might prefer the term handsome,” ____________ said as she came down from her laughing fit. “But to me there’s a clear distinction between the two. And it’s. It’s just the word I think of when I look at y’all.” 

Noctis smiled. “Aw, there’s that cute accent again.” 

____________ blushed. “Ugh, I’m trying to get rid of it.” 

“You’re such a country bumpkin.” 

“Yeah I know.” _____________ smiled. “Uh. I hope this isn’t awkward, or weird? Me calling you pretty? I mean you’re royalty, so, it makes sense that you’d have nice genes. I...I promise I’m not trying to come on to you, Noct. You’re just...nice to look at? Wow. Wow, I should just quit talking.” She hung her head and blushed again. “Sorry.” 

Noct smiled. “Nah, it’s cool. I know it’s not empty flattery. And thanks. I’m glad I’m nice to look at.” 

“Ah! I promise it’s not flattery!” 

He shrugged. “It’s not like you’re in rare company. I know what the girls at school are like, giggling and bumbling over themselves when I walk down the hallway. But after telling me what you’ve told me, they’re  _definitely_  not getting a date out of me.” He huffed. “No one insults my Crownsguard and gets away with it.”  

___________ looked at him. “You know...I also kinda think...maybe it’s not so much as that I’m fat or whatever, but maybe...because I’m close to you? Maybe they’re just jealous? So that’s why they don’t really like me? I don’t know. Just a hunch.” 

Noctis’ eyes went wide. “Is that so.”  

 

The next time __________ and Noctis met at school was interesting, to say the least. __________ had waved to him in the hallway, and he’d practically warped over to her and embraced her in a rare, full-bodied hug. He squeezed the life out of her and stepped back, leaving her breathless. He maintained eye contact with her through the whole conversation, holding her gaze while talking so that she wouldn’t notice the silence that fell over the rest of the student body as they watched the normally-aloof Crown Prince suddenly be  _so_ familiar with the new transfer student. When the warning bell for the next class rang, he drew her in for another hug and actually  _kissed_ the top of her head and headed down the hall, people parting for him in awe. She stared dead ahead, looking them all in the eye,  _daring_ them to say anything. ___________ turned sharply on her heel and went to class, silently smirking at the prince’s overt display of friendly affection.  

In the girls’ bathroom after school was over, ___________ was in a stall, heeding nature, when the door slammed open and a multitude of feet entered room. There was banging on the stall door as ___________ finished up, readjusted her skirt, steadied her breathing, and unhooked the latch, letting the gray door swing open to reveal five very confrontational teenagers.  

“Well, look who it is. If it isn’t the prince’s royal  _slut_ ,” seethed one, a tall, pouty blonde who had the affections of every boy in school except the one she wanted.  

___________ tilted her head to the side and smirked. “Oh yeah, slut that’s me. Interesting term to call a virgin, but whatever.” She moved to leave the stall. 

“Just who do you think you are, you fat ugly bitch? You’re nothing. I don’t know what kind of spell you have the prince under, but we’re going to put a stop to it now!” One of her floozies screamed, a short, peppy brunette in a volleyball uniform. The other girls nodded in agreement. 

“Oh, spell, gotcha. You think magic has something to do with Noctis and me being friends. Wow, I thought y’all couldn’t get any dumber, after seeing the public results of our last midterm exams, but you’re proving me wrong here.” ____________ rolled up her jacket and shirt sleeves and steadied her breathing, knowing that she would probably get in trouble for this, but she just couldn’t let them get away with picking on Noct, too. She just stared blankly at the girls until the element she desired came to the surface, and suddenly, the bathroom stall erupted in an explosion of fire, knocking all the girls back and singeing their uniforms, bags and hair.  

“There’s a spell for ya, good ol’ firaga,” ___________ said, stepping close to the pile of girls as they tried furiously to put out the flames. “Reckon I could impress his Highness with that spell, ya bunch of _cunts_? Get the fuck out of here and just leave me and Noctis alone!” 

The girls were screaming and scrambling to their feet now, running out of the bathroom, barely registering a very amused Noctis and Prompto leaning against the wall right outside.  

__________ sighed and froze what was on fire, then retracted it. She’d have a lot of explaining to do in the morning to the principal. And to Ignis, Gladio, and the Marshal, whenever they heard of it. And her parents. She bit her lip.  _Maybe I went overboard..._ She packed up her things and left the bathroom, and was immediately assaulted by her two friends.  

“Gods, Noct! Don’t scare me like that!” ___________ said as he threw his arm around her and dragged her down the hallway.  

“Dude,” said Prompto. “We couldn’t see what was going on in there, but we heard it. And you were so  _totally_ badass!” 

__________ blushed deeply. “Y-yeah, well. That stunt might just get me kicked out.” 

“Nah,” said Noct, finally releasing her so she could walk upright beside them. “I’ve done worse. Besides, me and Prom’ll vouch for you. You were defending your honor as a Crownsguard, and defending your Crown Prince. That’ll count for a lot more than some structural damage to a bathroom.” 

“Yeah dude, those bullies are no joke,” Prompto said, slugging you on the arm. “But you sure showed them!” He hummed a little victory tune and __________ giggled.  

“I really didn’t mean to do that, I just kind of...exploded on them,” __________ said quietly. “I’m just worried that the Marshal is going to punish me.” 

“I’ll go in with you,” said Noctis. “I’m used to him giving me shit. I’ll just say that it was my idea for you to defend yourself that way.” 

“Oh--Noct, you don’t have to do that.” 

“Yeah, but I’m going to anyway. C’mon.” 

The three friends walked out of the school into the waiting arms of Ignis and Gladio. Yeah. It went without saying that ___________ had definitely earned her place in the prince’s retinue.  

 _Now,_ he thought.  _If only we could do something about this crush_ _Prompto has on you_ _..._  


	10. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is gratuitous Reader/Ignis Friendship Fluff
> 
> or
> 
> The boys plan to spoil Reader because they are all bros and Reader is the Most Important Bro today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea for a while, so uh. Have some more exotic Altissia fun before shit hits the fan.

You awoke in a daze, cocooned inside the crisp white linen sheets, the memories of the night before still very fresh in your mind. Oh, the things you and Prompto had  _done._ You sighed happily, wishing to just stay in the big, oversize bed that smelled like him. You blinked a few times and sat up, realizing that all traces of your blond sunshine were gone. But, on his pillow, you noticed a piece of folded paper and a sylleblossom. You smiled as you took the flower and place it on the bedside table closest to you and opened the note.  

_________, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to wake up with you._ _Noct_ _and_ _Gladio_ _needed me to be with them today. I’ll see you tonight!_

_I love you so much. Have a great day. ~_ _Prompto_

_PS, Call Iggy when you get up. I think he needed your help with something. :)_  

The three of them were going to be gone all day? Strange, you thought, but you shrugged, placed the note next to the sylleblossom on the table, and took your phone from your charger. He picked up after a few rings.  

“Ah, good morning, ______,” came the ever-alert morning tone that was Ignis Scientia.  

“Hey Ignis.” You yawned. “Uh. Prompto left me a note saying he’d be out all day with the others, but that you needed me for something today? Are we going to help get things in order for the rite tomorrow?” 

“That’s precisely what Noct and the others are doing, my dear. Get dressed as fast as you can. The two of us are going to have a day together.” 

 _Leaving_ _Noct_ _,_ _Gladio_ _, and_ _Prompto_ _to see to events concerning Luna and Leviathan? Has Ignis hit his head on something?_ But you rarely questioned the adviser. Surely there was something up, but you couldn’t place it. “Okay, sure, Ignis,” you said happily. “I’d love to go out with you. I mean, not like,  _going out_ going out but...going out. Today. Fuck I’m sorry.” 

Ignis chuckled on the other line. “Quite all right. It’s rather warm today, so perhaps if you have a summer dress somewhere in your luggage, you might put it on. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs in the hotel lobby.” 

“Uh, okay. Bye Ignis. See you soon!” You ended the call and scratched your head. Ignis wanted to go out with you today? And he wanted you to wear a dress? You pursed your lips. The only dress you had was a black sundress that you’d planned on wearing to the wedding, when it was still on. You had a pair of strappy black wedge sandals to go with it, and some shapewear to go underneath to prevent thigh chafing and encourage a smoother silhouette. You shrugged to yourself. “Well, if that’s what Ignis wants, I guess I’ll oblige him.” Thanking the Six that you’d shaved everything the previous afternoon before you’d started your delicious torture of Prompto, your shower routine was pretty quick. After drying your hair and styling it into some semblance of femininity, you dressed and put on what little jewelry you’d packed with you—well, you supposed now it was all the jewelry you owned, seeing as Insomnia was gone. A few silver bangles, a long necklace with a skull pendant, an oversize ring with a raw pink crystal on it. After turning in front of the mirror a few times, you slung your small messenger bag that acted as your purse across yourself and headed to the hotel lobby.  

 

Ignis was looking impeccable as always, and even though you were as dressed up as you’d ever been in the last several weeks on this road-trip-gone-wrong, you suddenly felt like a hobo. He didn’t see you at first, utterly absorbed in a can of Ebony and the local paper, but his peripheral vision kicked into gear and he saw you approaching his bench, his mouth dropped slightly and he practically threw the paper and the coffee can in the nearest garbage can before rushing up to you.  

“My word,” he breathed. “______, you look exquisite!” 

“Ah,” you said, blushing, looking down. “I wouldn’t say that. I certainly don’t look as good as you.” 

The strategist was in tailored black pants (but what piece of clothing wasn’t tailored to Ignis), a pinstriped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows—gods why was that so hot—suspenders, and his trademark silver leather gloves. His green eyes sparkled behind his glasses, and you were burning hot under his gaze. Yeah, all those times you’d called them all attractive...this was why. Ignis had a beauty that was wildly different from Prompto’s and even though you were totally in love with the gunman, it didn’t mean you were immune to the charm of any of the other three guys in the party. You liked looking at Ignis as much as the average Joe.  

“Am I...I’m sorry Ignis, this is all I had. It’s what I was gonna wear to the wedding.” The sandals you were wearing had a small heel, so you were a few inches taller than normal. The black sundress had thin black straps, was plain and simple and made from a heavy linen, and it came to your knees. The grayscale Crownsguard tattoo on your shoulder played a sharp contrast to your pale skin, and the black bra you wore blended in pretty well with the black straps of the dress, which came up pretty far on your chest, thankfully; you were loath to draw attention to anymore exposed skin than was necessary, and you had never thought it proper to bear much cleavage, given your military status. You’d just left your hair free-flowing, putting hairspray in it and hoping your natural waves would take care of the rest. The mocha lipstick was on your lips, as well as a light smattering of mineral powder foundation on your face to try to even out your ruddy complexion.  

“And you would’ve rivaled anyone there for the title of best dressed, save Lady Lunafreya, ______. You are divine. I wish you could see yourself as we see you. I dare say if Prompto were here, he’d faint straightaway on the marble floor.” 

You chuckled, and felt a bit better. Ignis had an eye for beautiful things. Certainly he wouldn’t lie to you? Maybe you really did look okay. “Ha! Well, if you say so.” 

“I do certainly say so. Shall we go?” He grinned. 

Ignis hooked his arm under yours and the two of you left the hotel and took a gondola to another part of the city, this one bustling with trendy boutiques, salons, and restaurants. On the way, the two of you made light conversation about a little of everything, and you filled up your phone with even more shots of the stunning scenery. The gondola docked, and Ignis exited first and helped you out. He took your arm again and walked straight into the fray of shopping outlets.  

“So, uh,” you said. “What are we here to do? Or get? Or see?” 

Ignis stopped a few yards from one of the salons, a fancy-looking establishment with a foreign name you couldn’t pronounce, even for all your love of literature. He dropped your arm and turned.  

“______. The lads and I have been doing some talking, and we are all in agreement that you deserve so much more than you’ve ever been given, and you deserve so much more than the things that’ve happened on this journey so far.” 

“I...I’m not sure I follow you? My life...once I moved to Insomnia and met all of you, my life has been pretty perfect! I couldn’t ask for better friends, or for a better purpose in life. I was chosen to help protect Noct on this journey, and that’s exactly what I’ve tried to do. I haven’t...I haven’t thought of anything bad happening as any sort of punishment. I’m a Crownsguard. Where Noctis goes, I go. I’m not one to feel tragically sorry for myself. I wish we’d shower a little more often, but that’s it.” You giggled, but it fell quickly as you stared into Ignis’ fiery gaze.  _What is going on today?_  

Ignis sniffed a little.  

 _Is Ignis Scientia_ crying _?_  

“Yes, well. Despite your pragmatic view of things, the others and myself feel differently. We realize that our adventure so far has been less than accommodating, and there’s rarely an opportunity for you to, ah, let your hair down, as it were. Like you’re doing right now. There’s not been many opportunities for you to bask in the simple pleasures of your sex.” 

It clicked, finally, and you actually laughed. “Are you...Ignis. Are you upset because this trip hasn’t been  _woman-friendly_?” 

Ignis clicked his tongue. “Well, in layman’s terms, I suppose that’s the gist of it.” 

“Hey, dude, it’s okay! If I wanted to paint my nails in the back of the Regalia or whatever, I would have. Seriously. Y’all don’t have to sweat over this. I don’t mind being the only girl. I mean, not in a perverted cartoony reverse-harem way, but like. Y’all are my friends. I like being around you.” 

Ignis sighed. “Well. Despite your insistence to the contrary, Noct agreed with me that you deserved to be pampered a little.” He gestured to the full-service salon. “I’ve prepaid for many of the basic services at this establishment. So I want you to enjoy yourself.” 

Your face twisted in confusion. “In there? Ignis, what do you mean?” You followed him quickly as he went inside. The posh interior and clientele hit you like a ton of bricks. The salon was like something you’d seen on the trendier side of Insomnia, the shopping district that had shops that sold purses worth one year of your Crownsguard compensation. You glanced at a pamphlet as Ignis waited in line at the counter—just a basic haircut was over one hundred gil. You slammed the pamphlet down on the coffee table by the waiting area and went up to him, grabbing his arm firmly.  

“Ignis,” you hissed. “The prices here are insane! There’s no way I need any of this stuff. It’s so...arbitrary! Besides,” you hung your head. There’s no way you could’ve missed the overall  _look_ of the other women inside the salon. They all looked like movie stars and their purses and clothes were probably worth more than your life. “I...I really don’t fit in here. I’d rather just go sightseeing with you or something.” 

“______.”  

You looked up at the taller man in front of you. Ignis was staring at you with his piercing green eyes, but there was a sadness to them. His face, normally so composed, was tight with emotion. His sharp jaw was clenched, and he wriggled his arm out of your grasp; he grabbed both of your hands together and placed them against his chest. “______,” he said again. “The others and I have had  _many_ an opportunity to talk about you over the years. About what we think about you. You are so unbelievably kind and compassionate and  _smart_. You’re a complete Empath, much to your detriment. Your anxiety tells you that you’re not good enough; your depression tells you that there’s no point in trying. Yet, always, in the face of adversity, you unleash this incredible raw power and you knock any obstacle flat on its arse. You are  _always_  there for any one of us, for Noct. You, like Prompto, try to carry twice your weight in any situation to try to prove your worth and usefulness. Society has told you that you are ugly because you are fat, that fat people, especially women, are lazy, or unhygienic, or not worthy of beautiful clothes or basic human decency. I’m here to tell you that it's simply not true. Let me tell you how every one of us sees you.” 

You were ugly crying all your makeup away, many of the other customers and workers in the salon looking at the scene Ignis was making you cause. Your knees were wobbly under his words as he continued to assault you with his beautiful voice, telling you that you were more than enough.  

“Prompto,” he continued, “absolutely _adores_ you. He worships you, ______. Even before you told me of your little high school infatuation, I could see it plainly on your face, and his face as well. Your love for him has always been reciprocated. After Noctis, you are probably the most important person in the world to him. I shouldn’t have to convince you of that. He is so,  _so_ very in love with you.” 

You shook your head. “No, you don’t have to convince me...I know that much, at least.” 

“As for Gladio, I know you two have always had an interesting relationship, but when I told him about our talk in the car that night as I was taking you home, there are no words to describe the anger and sadness in his face. He thinks you’re a brilliant Healer, and not that this matters much anymore, but Gladio is very much attracted to the buttocks and chests of women. Forgive me for my frankness, but you have both in excess, and I can assure you that his flirts with you always had some merit to them. He is another one who finds you absolutely breathtaking, not only in looks but in personality. Your witty banter with him puts a smile on his face unlike anything I’d ever seen before.” 

Your eyes widened. _Gladio_ had thought you were a piece of ass? The man who probably could’ve bedded any woman in Insomnia...or all of Eos for that matter, with relative ease?  _This day is getting weirder and weirder._  

“I know his Highness can come off as aloof and distant sometimes, but trust me. Noct values not only your service to him, but he also values you as a person. I’m quite sure he’d die for you just as much as you’d be willing to die for him. He is wickedly protective of you. Other than Lady Luna, I’m afraid his interactions with the opposite sex have been somewhat...stilted. Having you in his close circles has brought him out of his shell. Your wild and sudden intrusion into his high school life was one of the most positive experiences he’s ever had. He has changed for the better since knowing you. He really, truly, loves being your friend, ______.” Ignis paused.  

Somewhere along the way, you’d pressed yourself flush against Ignis’ tall, lithe form and you were squeezing him. He was hugging you back, a little reserved but hugging nonetheless, and he was leaning into your ear now, whispering these affirmations to you.  

“As for yours truly, ______. I mean it in no small way when I tell you that you have a deliciously brilliant mind. Your talent for magic and healing are almost unparalleled for someone your age...you truly are incredible. The conversations that I have with you are each unique and special, and I hold them close to my heart, always. Your helpfulness and resourcefulness on this journey are more than what I could’ve ever asked for. I appreciate you because of who you are to Noctis, but I also consider myself a lucky man to know you personally. You truly are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.” Ignis pulled away from you and lifted your chin up in one slender, gloved hand.  

All you could do was stare at him in awe, eyes wide, cheeks flushed and wet, nose runny from crying.  

“All four of us have been saving up for Altissia for days before we got here. We’ve all pooled our money from daemon hunts, old weapons trade-ins, and other favors in order to give you something that you can have for yourself. To refuse this gift would be to refuse our collective admiration and love for you. Please, please say that you’ll let me do this.”  

Dumbfounded at the planning that had gone into this, you nodded quietly, coming down from your emotional high and sputtering out an apology to the retainer.  

Ignis smiled and wiped the tears from your eyes. “No matter. Come. Let’s get you started.” He walked up to the thin, tanned woman behind the counter. “Good morning. The Scientia party, if you please. There should be several appointments on the booking table.” 

She smiled and nodded as she clacked on the keyboard. “Right, Scientia! I’ve got it right here. Haircut, facial, mani-pedi, massage, Galahdian wax, eyebrow wax, and sauna session. Sound right?” 

“Indeed,” Ignis confirmed. “I believe the balance has been paid in full.” 

The woman ran her eyes over the computer screen before nodding. “Absolutely it has, and we thank you for your business.” She looked at you, finally, and smiled. “What an amazing boyfriend you have!” 

“Ah, uh no, it’s not, it’s not like that. We’re just friends,” you said quickly.  

The woman looked surprised but just shrugged. “You must be the giftee for this package today. Miss, uh..” she looked back at the computer. “Miss _____?” 

You nodded. “Yes, that’s me!” 

“Well, we hope you enjoy your time here. Your haircut is on the agenda first. Our escort, Polly, will be with you in just a minute to take you to the back to change into your robe.” 

“Robe?” You looked around. Not every woman had one on, but a fair number of them did. Were you going to spend the whole day naked in a salon? 

As the second woman, Polly, a petite woman with short black hair and glasses, dressed in an oversize blue smock and kitten heels, approached you to whisk you away, you numbly said “Goodbye” to Ignis as he smiled and waved after you, taking a seat in one of the overstuffed armchairs and picking up a magazine.  

 

You’d never been so tended to in your entire life. You’d planned on maybe getting your nails done for the wedding, but only at the cheapest price point, or doing them yourself if that failed to be an option. You’d only had one or two manicures and pedicures in your life, and certainly none of this quality. Had your feet or hands ever been so smooth? Even the peeled nailbeds were almost invisible under the nail tech’s expert work; your hands now matched the nail styles you’d noticed on so many of the native Altissians. You were sure the facial had gotten rid of ten years’ worth of dead skin cells, and the eyebrow wax and reshaping almost instantly improved your face, you decided. Maybe you weren’t so bad-looking after all. The Galahdian wax was painful, but damned if it didn’t make you excited to show Prompto later...at least there was the cooling aloe gel the technicians had applied after removing the hair. The massage took away weeks of fighting and sleeping on the ground away from your muscles, and you swore you felt ten pounds lighter after sweating in the sauna for nearly an hour. The haircut was probably the most radical thing of the day—you requested it cut short and choppy, no longer than your chin, and you got one side shaved, like many of the Crownsgaurd and Kingsglaive. It was weird to see so much of your hair fall to the ground, but in a way, it was good. It was change.  

 

Finally, after nearly five hours of pampering, you were back in your regular sundress and Polly was escorting you back to the front. Ignis looked like he hadn’t moved in all that time, although he’d managed to procure what looked like a bagged lunch and a can of Ebony coffee from the café across the street, so at least he’d gone out and stretched his legs and eaten.  

And for the second time that day, when he looked up from intently staring at a newspaper, his jaw dropped slightly. He fiddled with his gloves as you approached him.  

“Sooooo, I know the hair’s really different, but I figured it was more fitting? Maybe I look more like a guard now.” 

“You are so stunning, _____. I daresay this is the most refreshed I’ve ever seen you. Was everything to your satisfaction? Did this salon live up to its reviews?” 

“Oh, definitely, I mean, this is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. They even gave me a free makeup application because you spent so much here. Which. I’m still kinda mad at, but...I can’t deny, Ignis. This was a truly exceptional gift. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you or the others.” 

Ignis scoffed and waved his hand. “You have paid for this several times over with your selflessness, your generosity, and your friendship. It is, without a doubt, the least we could do.” He grabbed your arm again and escorted you out into the bright afternoon.  

“So,” you said as you walked arm in arm with Ignis among the crowds. “What are we doing now?” 

“Ah, well. You see, your special day has a part two.” 

“Ignis Scientia, if you spend one more cent on me, I am going to dull your cooking knives.” 

Ignis raised an eyebrow and turned to you. “Oh really? That’s a pretty major threat.” 

“I’m serious dude. This has been more than enough.” 

“Well, would it make you feel better to know that this second part involves Prompto, specifically?”  

He had your attention now. “Okay...what is it?” You faced him. 

Ignis rarely had those shit-eating grins that Prom and Gladio pulled off so well, but when he did manage one, it was pretty wicked. “Well. He was pretty insistent on me doing this part, partly out of nerves and partly out of his realization that I have the most fashion sense out of all of them.” Ignis cleared his throat. “Prompto wanted me to help you find a few new outfits. And, well, to also help you find some...private attire. That only he’d see on you.” 

Your face went twenty shades of red.  _As if he hasn’t done enough for me, now he’s going to help me pick out lingerie?_  “Um. Well. If...if you’re comfortable with that, Ignis.” 

He smiled broadly. “But of course.” 

“Okay, Specs.” You stopped. “Let’s get this out of the way. Uh. I can’t just shop  _anywhere,_ you know. Most clothing stores have limited or no options for women my size.” 

Ignis’ green eyes lit up like fireworks. “Ah, no need to be concerned about that! I called ahead yesterday afternoon and booked personal shopping trips at two very reputable boutiques that carry your size in clothing.” 

 _Right, NOW this is just borderline embarrassing._ You continued to walk with Ignis through the crowds. “Uh huh, okay. And how do you know my size?” 

“My darling. You think that all these days of doing laundry that I don’t know your clothing size by now? And I’ve been helping to launder for the others for three for years. Were everyone to need a new wardrobe by tomorrow, I would be able to procure it without them lifting a finger.” 

You exhaled long and deep. “You’re amazing, Ignis.” 

“Why, thank you, but it’s not necessary. It’s simply a part of my job.” 

The two of you finally reached one of the boutiques on your agenda, and Ignis waited patiently as you picked out a few modest new outfits. He didn’t personally see you try on the various baby doll nighties, bras, and lace thongs that you picked up, but his input as to what he thought Prompto would like was invaluable. As a result, you ended up with a hell of a lot of sheer animal-print, and one pair of boy shorts that had a cute chocobo print on it—though, you were sure you could’ve picked those out yourself.  

 

It was about six in the evening when you and Ignis stopped at a local market for ingredients and made your way back to the hotel to meet the others for dinner. You followed him to the royal suite that he, Noctis, and Gladio were sharing. You threw your shopping bags in your and Prompto’s room before ducking in behind Ignis.  

The other three were already there, talking and laughing and playing cards, Gladio getting his usual temper as Noctis won another round, but they stopped as Ignis unlatched the door and sauntered in, arms full of brown grocery bags. You tentatively stepped out from behind them into their full view.  

Gladio actually let out a long, low whistle, and you thought you might die. Noctis gave you two  _very_ enthusiastic thumbs up, and Prompto...well. Prompto looked like his heart was both simultaneously combusting and just starting to beat for the first time. He got up from his chair and time stood still as he crossed the room to stand in front of you.  

You looked at him with watery eyes. “Do...do you like it? The hair, I mean.” 

“You’re...you’re so breathtaking.” He ran his hands through your hair and scratched on the side that was shaved. You leaned into his hand and brought your own hand on rest on top of his. “You look so...this outfit, your skin...you’re  _glowing_. You’re radiant.” He managed to rip his gaze away from you and to Ignis, who was in the kitchenette, preparing dinner. “Iggy, buddy. What magic did you work on my girlfriend?” 

Your heart fluttered at the title and you inhaled sharply. It still felt so surreal hearing him say it out loud.  

Ignis chuckled. “I’m merely the pocketbook, Prompto. You can thank the wonderful technicians at Isla Paraiso salon.” 

He turned back to you. “I mean, gods, you’re always pretty, but I’ve just never seen you so...” 

You laughed. “You mean I actually kinda look like a girl? And I’m not in combat boots or covered with dirt and monster guts?” 

“No, I mean, of course you always look like a girl, but...” he frowned. “Ah forget it. I just don’t have the words.” 

You stroked his face, and pulled it in for a deep kiss. _These are all the words I need._   

A minute later, you heard gagging noises coming from the corner of the room and you broke it off.  

“Get a roooooom!” Noctis was singing as he faked puking.  

“You lovebirds don’t go down on each other in front of us, now,” chuckled Gladio. 

You rolled your eyes but winked at Prompto. “Well. If you think I look nice now, just wait until I show you some of the new clothes I bought.” 

“Aw geez,” Noctis was saying as he got up and went to the fridge to refill his soda.  

Gladio was opening another beer as he shot you a smirk. “So, ______. I hear my lessons paid off pretty good yesterday.” 

Your eyes went wide and you made a slashing motion across your neck, but it was too late.  

“Lessons?” Noct asked.  

Prompto went as red as his tank top and he was frozen in mortification.  

“Yeah, didn’t _____ tell you, Princess? I’ve been teaching her how to tie all kinds of  _knots._  And it seems that a certain member of our party doesn’t mind being tied up.” 

“Ithinkit’stimeforbed,” Prompto was squealing as he pulled you towards the door and out into the hallway.  

“But you didn’t eat...dinner...” Ignis was saying as the door was closing, but it suddenly reopened with you dragging a very reluctant Prompto back into the room.  

“We’re staying for dinner, Ignis. Don’t worry.” You shot Gladio a look and he just beamed.  

Prompto went to sit at the deserted kitchen table with his head down and eyes closed, arms folded in a huff.  

“Well,” you said, sitting on the bed beside Noct. “My _personal_  life aside, I really want to thank you for what you did for me today.” 

Noct waved his hand as he guzzled his drink. “It’s no big deal, ______. You really deserved it.” 

“Yeah,” Gladio echoed as he leaned back and stretched, flexing a little bit before picking up his book. “I know it’s kinda rough for a girl out here but you handle it with style. It was the least we could do for ya.” He smiled at you, genuinely.  

You smiled back, and then turned to Noctis and hugged him. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes watering up again. 

Noctis stiffened for a second but then put his drink down and returned your hug. “Hey, hey. It’s all right, really. I can’t have my healer too worn out. ‘You can’t pour from an empty cup,’ as they say. Plus we all have a big day tomorrow, so it was only fair that you got to pamper yourself a little today.” 

You sat up and nodded. As Ignis had explained on the way back to the hotel, after receiving a phone call from Noctis after his meeting with the Secretary Claustra, that the four of you would be on evacuation duty for the citizens of Altissia, afterwards fighting back the empire to keep them off of the Hydrean so Noct could make his pact with her. At this point, you felt ready to take on the world.   

Noct patted your shoulder. “But hey. I think you should go back over to poor Prom. He looks like he’s about to melt through the floor.” 

You looked up and sure enough, your pretty blond boyfriend was actually  _pouting_ , still flushed with embarrassment. “Oh for the love of the Six. Prompto. Come here.” 

He rose with mechanical movement, slowly plodding over to Noct’s bed and flopping down with a sigh.

“Oh, my gods. Actual baby Prompto Argentum.” You moved behind Noctis to cuddle him. He sighed into you and wrapped his arms around you.  

“I missed you,” he murmured.  

“I missed you too.” 

“But Specs took good care of you, right?” 

You kissed the top of his head. “Of course he did.” 

 

The rest of the evening passed without incident, and Ignis’s recipe of sea bass sauté left you feeling the most satisfied you’d felt in days. When you and Prompto retired to your own room, you had a  _lot_ of fun showing him the new scandalous lacy unmentionables you’d picked up. There was a hell of a lot more teasing and rope before the two of you finally settled down to sleep, both a little anxious about the next day’s events, but confident that you could pull off anything, as long as you were together. 


	11. Interlude: Adryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn is fucking everywhere, I'm so sorry, but this hit me out of the blue and I just had to weave it in. 
> 
> I'm so fucking sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna hate me. I'm sorry. Honestly.

Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim, had been carefully laying plans to build up the Lucian line for a long, long time, hoping only to see it fall. No matter that he was part of that ancient line, cursed and purged into exile for not being the gods’ True King. At this point, he simply wanted to take the world down with him, if it would only bring him peace. He had power and immortality, but it wasn’t enough. He had shadowy control of most of the lands of Eos, command of an army made from twisted half-human, half-daemon machines, the complete confidence of Emperor Aldercapt, tight control of the Fleuret family...but still he wanted more.  

And he found it in the simple act of just...giving his power away. If he was going to destroy the Chosen king, arguably the last in the line of Lucis, he’d need to get closer to Noctis in a lot of ways. And what better way than to take advantage of his role as the “Accursed”—really, did Bahamut have to be so  _mean_ about it?—and simply use someone so unassuming and plain so that no one, not even the royal family or its Glaives, would notice.  

The unassuming, plain character that played right into Ardyn’s hands was a short, chubby girl on a swing set one summer day at a local park. Ardyn had wandered Eos for what he thought might’ve been centuries and this plucky little town on the southern borders of Lucis was barely a blip on his radar until he saw the girl, humming some old lullaby in an incredibly off-key pitch, playing by herself at the park. He watched her from a nearby grove of trees and was about to walk away until she kicked off her left shoe, giggling happily as it flew into the air, and...froze, mid-fall, into a block of ice, and hit the ground with a distinct  _thud._  

Ardyn’s already twisted face twisted even more into a smile. A girl with already a hint of magic in her veins? Now  _that_ could be useful. He was itching with excitement as he stepped out from behind his vantage point and watched as she hummed happily to herself as she produced a small flame in her hand, simultaneously melting the ice and drying the small sneaker.  

“Why, hello there, you precious thing!” Ardyn cooed as he stopped just beyond the fake plastic tarmac of the playground. 

The girl, startled, turned to face him and smiled brightly, waving. “Hi mister!” 

“What an incredible trick you did with your shoe just now!” He moved a bit closer and squatted, eye-level with her now, but still a few feet away.  

“Aw, thanks!” She sputtered happily. “Can you do magic too?” 

“Indeed I can, young one. Now tell me, who taught you this magic? Did mommy or daddy help you practice from a book?” 

The girl shook her head. “My mommy says that the gods gave me this magic.” She waddled her pudgy body over to him and held out her palm, face contorted in concentration, until small ice crystals formed on her skin. She blew into them and they floated away, instantly melting in the warm summer wind. “But I’m still practicing. I’m not very good yet. Daddy says that when I’m older that we’re going to move to the city and then I’ll get to join the Crownsguard!” She laughed happily. “Are you in the Crownsguard, mister? My daddy says that those who do magic are in service to the king.” 

Ardyn raised an eyebrow, infinitely amused and suddenly very taken with this carefree young girl. _Oh, this is going to drive a stake right through the young prince’s heart. “_ I’m afraid I’m not, my dear. I was never invited to serve his Majesty, you see. But however, I do believe that I can help you.” He sat and invited her onto his lap, and she sat tentatively, making more ice crystals, some better than others. “I’ve heard that only  _very_  powerful people are allowed to fight in the king’s army. You can’t protect the king if you’re not  _very_ powerful, right?” 

The girl nodded slowly, kind of sniffling. “That’s why I’m going to practice every day until I’m a big girl so I can protect the king! Or maybe even the prince!” 

“Hhhhmmm, but practice can only get you so far, sweetheart. But I! I can help you get stronger, what do you say?” 

The girl tilted her head and looked into his eyes. Ardyn used a hint of power to dazzle her subconscious, to make her see wonderful visions of the future, herself a powerful, beautiful mage, fighting by the Prince’s side, protecting him from any that would do him harm. He withdrew the vision as easily as he’d spurred it on and then the little girl was bouncing up and down on his lap in excitement. 

“Oh, yes, please! Please, mister, help my magic become stronger so that I can fight for the prince!” The girl was clapping her hands now, electric sparks flying as her raw talent seeped out uncontrolled, chubby hands turning red with burns. She winced a little, but the dazzle in her eyes was not lost.  

Adryn smirked and put a hand on her fleshy little arm, allowing what was still left of the Lucian part of him seep into her. He wasn’t planning on controlling her, no—that would be too easy, an agent getting too close to Noctis too fast would spoil everything. He would simply...enhance her gifts and allow her life to take its natural course, and he’d interfere at  _just_  the right moment.  _How fortuitous that they are already going to be making the journey to Insomnia,_ he thought.  

After just a few minutes, the nameless girl had a stunning blue aura to her, and Ardyn prodded her to try a few more tricks, ones she said she’d never done before. She executed them flawlessly. She froze a tiny fly in mid-air twenty feet up; she summoned a lightning bolt and split a fully mature tree in half; she pointed at a wasp nest and it burst into flames, dead bugs falling out of it before they could even buzz out and search for their attacker.  

The girl screamed in delight and smiled brightly at him.  

“But you have to keep this our little secret,” Ardyn hissed, even as he smiled at his new protégé.  

The child nodded, dumbfounded at her own newfound talent. She stared at him with big eyes. And just for safe measure, Ardyn pressed a finger to her forehead and withdrew any memory of his presence, causing her to fall asleep, long enough for him to disappear into nothingness.  


	12. What Happened After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition of the shit that goes down in Altissia. Everyone's mad. You and Prompto have comfort sex on the train headed to Fodina Caestino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta angst and feelings here, my dudes.

The only time you liked your hands were when they were touching Prompto.  

They were doing so now, one arm wrapped around him and lazily rubbing his left forearm, the other hand petting his spikey blond hair. You were pushed up against the window in the booth in the dining car, and Prompto was crumpled against you, his legs stretched out the length of the booth’s bench.  

 _How did all this go to shit?_  

There’d been lots of tension since Altissia, lots of yelling. Noctis had retreated even further into himself, just when you thought you might be making more progress with the aloof prince—well, king, now, wasn’t it? (He’d been king since Galdin Quay, technically, something you still had trouble wrapping your head around sometimes.) Gladio had snapped and in so many words had told Noct he’d been acting like a little bitch; he’d shoved Prompto on his face and you’d actually slapped Gladio afterward, picking your boyfriend up and settling into a silent pout in the booth behind Ignis. You couldn’t bear to be far from him, not after what happened. Gladio blamed himself, you knew that—that's why he was acting out. He and Noct had stormed to opposite sides of the train, but they’d wander back in this particular car occasionally, though not at the same time.  

Ignis hadn’t said much, but you’d noticed him shaking throughout the whole affair.  

Both you and Prompto’s eyes were raw and red from crying, throats sore from choking out sobs and pleas of reconciliation that’d fallen on deaf ears. He was holding your middle in a death grip as he lightly dozed, finally, passed out from the exhaustion and emotion. You brought the hand that had been on his hair and shifted to turn and face behind you, putting yourself at an admittedly awkward angle, what with Prompto’s weight, but you made yourself comfortable.  

“Ignis.” 

You noticed the little hairs on the back of Ignis’ muscled neck bristle.  

He turned slightly. “Pardon?” 

You didn’t know what else to say so you gingerly reached out your hand to the back of his head. It was an impossible stretch to turn your hand around so you settled for stroking the back of his head with the back of your hand. He exhaled a deep breath and leaned back into your touch.  

You started to speak again but he cut you off.  

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize anymore. I can’t take it.” 

 _How did he know? Lost his sight but gained telepathy?_  

Ignis let out a strained laugh. “You make the slightest of inhales and audible pauses before you begin to speak. Don’t think I haven’t noticed every detail of you over the years, ______.”  

You bit your lip. “Observant as ever.” 

“Indeed.” Then, “There was nothing anyone could’ve done.” 

“If I were stronger, I would’ve been able to stop him.” 

“No.” Ignis bowed his head slightly. “Even with me harnessing the power of ancient kings, he was barely scared away.” 

You went silent as you replayed the day in your head again for the umpteenth time...  

 

 Getting separated from everyone else after escorting your last assigned citizen group into boats to sail far, far away from the impending disaster. Taking down more imperial soldiers and armored transports than you’d ever have before, and this time on your own; it was a struggle and you’d had to use more phoenix downs on yourself than everyone else during the whole trip combined, but you’d somehow made it out alive.  Finally getting close to the pier where Lady Lunafreya was standing, trident raised, communing with the terrifying sight that was the Hydrean Goddess.  _Leviathan_ , you’d breathed. You were racing down the pier. The goddess was roaring in some garbled language that you somehow understood, you knew partly because of the gift of magic they’d bestowed upon you.  _She’s angry at the summoning, angry at humanity, doesn’t think_ _Noct’s_ _worth it._ Luna had been knocked over by watery dragons in the minutes following. You were shouting, then, as you saw Ardyn materialize with a silver gleam in his hand that could only mean harm. He'd been pulling the dagger out as you reached her and without thinking you’d jumped and pushed all your weight into an outstretched fist as you’d punched the Chancellor in his grisly, tanned face. He’d stumbled back slightly, momentarily shocked, mouth twisting into a sly smirk, like he’d known something you didn’t. You’d found your footing again and lit up in swirling elemental magic, never having felt such righteous anger. Roaring in defiance over Luna’s broken and bleeding body, you’d lit him on fire, frozen him solid, and electrocuted the ever-living  _shit_ out of him, over and over and over until you’d found yourself panting and reaching the limits of your own vitality. He’d continuously gotten back up again, laughing and encouraging you to  _keep_ hurting him;  _That’s right, get angry,_ he’d said; until you’d collapsed in a slouched heap in front of the Oracle. After giving you a few swift but hard kicks to the ribs, he’d walked away from you as your eyes closed for a minute, tired, empty, angry that you weren’t strong enough to get retribution, gasping for breath as pain shot through your abdomen.  

Everything had been wet. You’d opened your eyes slowly. Leviathan was still raging, and you saw flashes of blue in the air darting back and forth about every three seconds in what could’ve only been a warping Noctis surrounded by his swirling Armiger of weapons, trying to beat the goddess into submission in order to prove himself worthy. (Titan had been one thing to see up close, giant smoking meteor on his back. Ramuh, thankfully, had just come to Noct’s aid of his own accord; and after picking him up and utterly obliterating the Imperial blockade, he’d reached one giant hand down to  _you_ and placed a single finger on your head, as if in acknowledgment, and nodded. You’d nodded back; the others staring in awe at you and Noctis and the god.) But somehow you had a sinking feeling that Leviathan wouldn’t be so nice, and indeed, she was proving to be a worthy opponent, the flashes of blue constantly dodging her waving torso and watery attacks. You’d heaved yourself up by some supernatural ability and turned to see Lunafreya in the fetal position, breath shallow, hand lightly gripping her trident. You’d checked yourself momentarily for blood or missing appendages before scooting over and taking the dying, rail-thin blonde in your arms.  

“H-hey, Lady Lunafreya, I’m...I’m one of Noct’s Crownsguard..._____….” You’d shifted her gently, crossing your legs underneath her and cradling her like a baby. You were too weak to heal, too weak to send out restoring light of spirit and strength. All you did was cry and rock her gently.  

The Oracle smiled at you weakly. “Lovely,” she’d whispered quietly, bringing a small, pale hand to your face, finger wiping a tear away. “How lovely to meet one of Noctis’ dear friends.” 

Gods, she was so beautiful, and this was so damn tragic you could barely contain yourself. How pathetic were you, anyway? You couldn’t even save Noctis’ fiancé, the fucking Oracle. All you could do was cry and watch and sit there in agony and hold her like she was a sleeping child. 

Suddenly, Noctis had come crashing down on the altar beside you, and you had to fight the urge to toss Luna aside and crawl to him instead.  

“Let me go to him,” Luna had whispered to you, and you helped her over, watching as she placed her forehead to his and mutter a prayer, light surrounding him and strength being restored.  _Such power, even in the face of death._ You’d drug yourself over to him and gripped his hand.  

“Noctis,” you’d breathed. “I’m here for you.” And you’d blacked out from exhaustion... 

And you’d awoken in the royal suite in the Leville, in Prompto’s strong, warm arms. You’d bolted up, heart racing, visions of the watery battle in your head. Ignis had been seated in a nearby chair, scarred and wearing a very different type of glasses. You had been lying on a bed that was in-between a standard hotel roll-away and a medical cot. 

“Oh thank gods, you’re all right,” Prompto had breathed into your neck, wetting it with tears.  

You’d gripped him tight and pulled him into a much-needed kiss that almost instantly brought you back to life. He got up and sat on the bed again, helping you to sit up yourself.  

“Ignis,” you’d breathed. The advisor had looked in your direction, but not completely at you.  

You’d turned to Prompto. “What happened?” 

“You...you blacked out. We’re guessing you had a fight with Ardyn, yeah?” 

You’d nodded. “I got to Luna just after he stabbed her. I fought him...I fought him with everything I had, Prom. I should’ve killed him ten times over and he just stood there, laughing, goading me on to keep hurting him, so I did, until I just couldn’t anymore. And then he kicked the wind out of me. I...I’m not sure what happened after that.” Just to check and make sure that your gifts hadn’t disappeared, you summoned a small ball of fire in your hand, blowing it out seconds later like a candle on a cake. “I’m fine. Where’s Noctis? Did he form the covenant? How long have I been out?” 

“Hey slow down!” But then Prompto nodded. “Yeah, he did, and Luna called upon the past kings of Lucis to help him. Titan showed up too. You’ve been out for like, two days. Noct too.” 

“Luna, is she...” 

Prom hung his head. “She’s gone. The last thing she did was give the Ring of the Lucii to Noct.” 

“I couldn’t save her.” You’d hung your head in shame, grief turning to anger. Both hands had flared up in fire, now, and you screamed, hurling a fireball towards the wall, knocking off what you were sure was a very expensive painting. Prompto had pounced on top of you, then, holding you as you cried over your perceived failures.  

“There’s nothing you could’ve done. What happened is as the gods ordained,” Ignis said quietly in the wake of your wrath.  

“And what the hell happened to you!” You’d surprised even yourself in the harsh tone. “What happened, Ignis!” 

The advisor had just sighed. “A blood price in exchange for using the kings’ power.” Ignis gestured broadly to nothing in front of him. “A small sacrifice to pay to protect the Chosen King.” 

“Let me try.” You’d wiggled out of Prompto’s grasp, still shaking with anger, fingers scorched from the intensity of the blast. You strode over to Ignis and knelt between his legs, gingerly bringing your hands to his face and removing his glasses. He winced.  

“Does it hurt?”  

“Not as much as it did initially.” 

“I can help.” You placed your large hand over Ignis’s scar, stumpy fingers ghosting over the wrinkled, red and purple skin. He’d leaned into you hand, a single tear falling from a permanently closed eye. You had steeled yourself, overcome with emotion at your dear friend having one of his senses suddenly ripped away. You’d surrounded both yourself and Ignis in a bright light, quickly healing the scars and easing the pain on his face.  

But when you went to that deep inner place inside of yourself, inside of your mind; the one where you asked the gods for constant permission, the place you’d learned to turn to when you were just a child to commune with the Astrals, they said no.  

You never actually  _saw_ any of the gods in your inner consciousness, just a big ball of light pulsing with garbled ancient language that you didn’t know you knew.  

“Please,” you’d whispered. “He needed the power to save the Chosen King. The king that  _you_ picked! How can you take this from him?”  

They answered. **_None but the_ ** **_Lucii_ ** **_can bear the power of the_ ** **_Lucii_ ** **_without sacrifice. Be glad that we did not take his life._ **  

You tried again and again to plead with the gods, begging for Ignis’ vision back, but they weren’t having it. They allowed you to heal his wounds and scars, allowed you to heighten his perception and comfort him, but they would not give you the power to restore his vision. Their say was final.  

You’d slowly brought yourself back to reality. Prompto was kneeled beside you, hand on your back. Ignis’ face was still in your hands. He looked a little better, at least. At least you could give him that much.  

There was stirring on the large bed behind you, and Noctis sat up before you could say anything else to Ignis.  

 

 

You opened your eyes, bringing yourself out of memory and back to current events on the train. Your hand was still on the back of Ignis’ head. Gladio was in the seat opposite him, giving you a defeated look. Prompto was dozing soundly on your lap, face pushed up against your plush stomach, your other hand still on his bicep, fingers dragging over flushed, freckled skin. You suddenly felt an urge deep in the pit of your groin.  _Really, body, now?_ you questioned. But it had been days since you’d last felt Prompto, and with the way things were going, even the next hour was uncertain. You with drew your hand from Ignis’ neck and shifted a little, trying to stir Prompto as naturally as possible. You leaned as low as you could and patted the side of his face.  

“Prom,” you whispered.  

He was drooling; he moved his face but didn’t wake.  

You brought your hand to what you knew was a  _very_ sensitive spot behind his left ear, and you ever-so-gently began to twirl your finger around it, even wetting your fingertip with saliva and tracing a thin line from behind his ear down his pale, slender neck.  

His breath hitched under your ministrations, and he furrowed his brow. You grinned. He was waking up. You kept up the motions, every so often pinching his earlobe, letting your fingers tickle the blond hairs on the back of his neck.  

Finally, Prompto’s eyes shot open and he moved further out on your lap, looking up at you with an intense stare.  

You grinned widely. Gods, he was so,  _so_ beautiful. “Hey Prom. Time to wake up.” 

He smiled back at you. “Heyyyyy, _____,” voice still hoarse.  

You continued touching that spot behind his ear and watched as his eyelids fluttered half closed, his breaths becoming shallower.  

“You....uh. Trynna tell me something,” he mumbled through a soft yawn.  

“Yeah, I’m trying to tell you something, silly.” You looked down and noticed that while his mind was still playing catch-up with your teasing, the rest of his body was already there. You could see the slight pulsing of the bulge in his pants and it actually made you lick your lips. “Your body knows what’s up, though.” 

Prompto’s eyes went wide and he looked down at himself, then back up at you, and blushed. “Here?” 

“Well, not in the open, dumbass.” You laughed as you whispered. “There are other rooms on this godsforsaken train, you know. Ones with little bunk beds?” 

He gulped and swallowed hard. He was on the same page now. He wiped hs mouth and ran his fingers through his hair as he sat up and stood, careful to face away from Gladio, who was looking at you blankly. You scooted out of the seat and stretched, because how  _long_ had you been sitting there crying and overthinking?  

Prompto took your hand and drug you to the door that separated this car from the next. You looked back at Gladio. “We’re uh. Gonna take a walk.” 

He just nodded gruffly, not even managing any playful banter, although you knew that he  _knew_ what the two of you sneaking off could only mean. 

You frowned as you turned back, but your momentary frustration was lost as you began to watch Prompto’s backside as he walked. You grinned.  _I’m such a lucky girl._  

It took just a few knocks before you found a deserted sleeping room in the next car. It was a tight squeeze, considering that you were considerably larger than your boyfriend, but you honestly didn’t care. You pulled the door shut and locked it. Prompto was already seated on the bottom bunk bed, pulling off his shoes and clothes. You did so yourself, wordlessly, knowing that there wasn’t time to engage in much foreplay or slow undressing of each other.  _Hopefully there will be time for that soon..._  

Prompto’s hand on your chin brought you out of your reverie as your underwear balanced between your legs, not completely off.  

“Hey,” he said, blue eyes burning with both sadness and desire. “I love you. No matter what happens. No matter what happens between any of the guys and me, or you. I’ll pick you every time.” 

You closed your eyes. “It’s...you can’t, though. You have to pick Noctis.” 

Prompto inhaled. “I mean...you know what I mean.” 

You weren’t sure if you did, but you didn’t question it. Both of you were naked and you were more than ready to ease the stress of the last several days.  

He kept his hand on your chin as he kissed you, soft and chaste at first, then opening to flick his tongue inside.  

You moaned softly and granted him access, and soon, the both of you were devouring each other as though it were your last day on Eos. It very well could be in five minutes, hell, who the fuck knew anymore? You just knew that you needed him. You snaked one arm to the back of his head and gripped his hair hard, earning you a guttural moan that further spurred the feeling low in your groin. Your other hand started out circling around his collarbones—really, his collarbones should’ve been goddamned  _illegal_ —and they wandered lower over time, gracing over his chest and flicking one nipple, then the other; then lower, tracing the outlines of his abs and connecting freckles without ever even looking; tickling the little happy trail of blond hairs that began just below his belly button and finally, you were gripping the base of his cock, rolling back the foreskin and lazily stroking his thick length.  

Prompto’s hands, which had just been content to caress your large breasts this whole time, suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, his pretty, long fingers digging into your shoulder blades. He broke the kiss to lean his head back and he mewled in pleasure, choking out a sob. “Gods, _____, it feels so fucking good to have your hands on me.” He bent back down to kiss you, hard, and then he broke it again. “Lie on the bed.” 

The little bunk bed was low enough for you to sit on and still have your feet on the floor, so you did so, perpendicular to the length of the mattress, scooting to the edge and opening your legs after taking your underwear completely off. Prompto wasted no time kneeling on the floor as he gripped your plush hips hard and dove his tongue into your wet slit. 

You moaned his name as you wound your fingers in his hair and rocked into him, feeling the stress and tensions leaving your body to only be replaced with wave after wave of sensory overload. You held out your orgasm for as long as you could, but after several minutes of Prompto sucking your clit and pumping those deft trigger fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, you felt the tide rising and then suddenly it crested over, hitting you like a sack of bricks as you fell backward and continued to shake, Prompto not releasing you from his carefully practiced rhythm.  

Finally,  _finally_ , he pulled his face and fingers out of you, and he moved your legs to the side as he guided you to lie parallel with the mattress. You watched him suck on his fingers and lick his lips, using those fingers to rub over his cock a few times, and then he was on top of you, pushed down much tighter than usually because of the spatial limitations of the bunk beds; but if you could’ve fused the two of you together, you would have. Any space between you was too far. Instead of normally just easing gently into you, Prompto’s primal insticts took over, his emotions, his need to simply  _take_ for the sake of taking, and he slammed into you, hard, balls deep immediately, bottoming out inside of you, catching your too-loud cry in his mouth as he started to fuck you hard and too fast.  

You didn’t care. You wanted it, you wanted him, for however long of a life you were destined to have on this dark world. You felt your actual consciousness slipping as he continued to ram into you, only screams of your name on his lips between cries, because he was actually crying again, but so were you, and you cried together, both in grief and in pleasure, until his hot orgasm exploded into you and made you see stars. Prompto slumped down next to you and brought a hand around to your back in a hug, and you felt his hot face in the crook of your neck.  

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you said over and over. He still hadn’t pulled out. In fact, you could feel that he was still half-hard. “Take me again, Prom,” you whispered. “Take whatever you need from me.” You put your hand on his back and squeezed, letting a little of your magic flow into him to restore his strength and vitality.  

His breath hitched in his throat. “On your knees,” he growled.  

You obeyed and suddenly Prompto was taking your pussy from behind, bent low over you to avoid hitting his head on the  _stupid_ top bunk, and he came again with a rip of your name from the deepest recesses of his being as he spilled more of his release into you. You moved your arms and laid flat on your stomach then, feeling him pull out. He laid half on top of you, and you turned your head to face him.  

His eyes were still brimming with tears, freckled face flushed pink, lips turned into a contented grin.  

“Wow,” you whispered.  

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I was too rough.” His voice was still low and thick with lust. 

“No! No, you weren’t. I...I needed that.” 

“Yeah, good suggestion.”  

You laughed weakly as you shifted onto your side. Prompto pulled you into a hug and wrapped his lean hardness against your big, soft body. “I love you so much,” he said.  

You fidgeted a little, finally giving voice to an idea that you’d been mulling over since Cape Caem. “H-hey Prom. Uh. I was thinking. When...or, if, I guess...this is all over. Would you wanna...” your voice trailed.  

“What? Wanna what?” His voice was back to its normal pitch, now, traces of the primal, needy man from minutes before pushed back under the surface. 

“Um. Like, like. Live together. And, uh. Get...get. Get married.” You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.  

A speaker overhead announced your impending arrival at Cartanica Station.  

You opened your eyes, knowing that the two of you needed to get dressed and rejoin the others. Prompto had just been staring at you, mouth open, blush going over his whole naked body. 

“Ah, uh, isn’t, like. The guy supposed to ask the girl?” 

“I mean...most of the time. But sometimes the girls can ask.” You were suddenly sheepish, dropping your chin. “I mean if you don’t want to it’s okay, it’s just a silly thought I’ve had for a while, y’know...” 

“Look at me.” His voice had dropped an octave.  

You looked back up at him.  

“Of course,” he was crying again. “Of course I want to marry you. When, when get to another city, or something, we can get a ring, and...and I’ll propose properly...or maybe Noct still has some of that gemstone we found for Dino back in Gladin...” He was outright sobbing again now, and all you could do was chuckle and pull him closer and kiss him through his happy tears.  


	13. Interlude: Aranea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some short & sweet Aranea/Reader fluff or something, I guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weekend did NOT go as planned my dudes so I am wildly behind on progressing the main plot. T_T I beg your forgiveness!  
> Have some hot mercenary-for-hire in the meantime.

Aranea Highwind had never had many friends. She’d never needed them, really; you were either a superior or a subordinate. The people she’d known the longest were Biggs and Wedge; and they were both fiercely loyal to her, joining the ranks of her own Niflheim army division, the 87th Airborne. Though all of the soldiers in her employ were all human, unlike the hordes of daemonic MTs that made up the other 99% of the Imperial army, she barely made an effort to get to know them. Guys and girls alike were often intimated by her, despite her shorter stature. Her mouth worked fast and her lance worked faster, and “connecting” with people was something she considered a worthless pastime unless it was for personal gain or just a passing tidbit of street-smart advice.  

Which was why she was confused when, after her first encounter with Noctis and his retainers, the short, squat woman who was with them was lodged constantly in the back of her mind. She didn’t know why. The reserved Crownsguard hadn’t even  _spoken_ to her  at first , and she’d hung back in battle, lodging elemental attacks and healing spells for her  charge from afar. Her mouth twitched in amusement in observance of the interactions between the woman and  one specific party member . The lanky blond wasn’t bad-looking...had she actually bagged him in the bedroom?  _Good on you, girl,_ she thought in a rare moment of tender female solidarity. But there was something else about her she couldn’t place. 

 

It had been grating on her for weeks until she happened to run into them again when Ardyn insisted helping them look for mythril around Vesperpool. She’d urged the other three to move ahead while she grabbed the solitary girl and started to grill her, with Prompto (she’d learned their names at that point) glancing back to look at them as they descended into the Steyliff Grove ruins.  

“So what’s your story, girl?” she’d asked as casually as she could. Aranea Highwind wasn’t famous for small talk.  

“Uh.” The woman, who was slightly above eye-level with her, fidgeted nervously. “I’m one of Prince—King—Noctis' Crownsguard.” 

“Well duh. I mean, but.” She gestured to the woman, looking her up and down. “You’re...different than the other Lucian guards I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. And you can wield elemental magic like the royal brat up there. What’s different about you?” 

The other woman had just stared at her for several minutes, blushing deeply. Or maybe it was the heat? Finally she’d spoken.  

“My name is _____ _____. I was born in the southern Leide region of Lucis. I developed magical abilities at age ten, moved to Insomnia at sixteen to train as a Crownsguard.” She coughed. “I’ve been in Noct’s inner circle ever since.” 

Aranea nodded. “So you some kind of prodigy? Not often the gods grace humanity with gifts like these unless you’re royalty or of the Oracle bloodline.” 

She shook her head, shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine. I...” She’d trailed off as Prompto looked back at her with a goofy wink and a finger gun, making up some stupid song about stairs. The blush rose up again, with a schoolgirl giggle and a wide smile.  

Aranea cocked her head and motioned to the blond once he’d turned around. “You and Blondie fooling around?” 

“Ah!” she’d squeaked. “Uh. I mean, we’re...we’re  _together..._ yeah. Like...dating, I guess?” 

“Nice!” Aranea clapped her on the back hard, causing her to jump. “You’re not a soldier, are you? I get the feeling you’re out of your element, here.” 

“Nah, I’m...I’m pretty soft. Not a badass like you. Just a medic. With some long-distance lightning and stuff to throw in.”  

 _Badass_. Aranea  rarely considered others’ opinions of her. She knew she could fight, sure. It was all she knew. She was an army commander. She was powerful. Men feared her. She didn’t have time—or tolerance—for weakness or softness, usually. But the younger woman’s soft eyes and tired demeanor hit something deep inside the rough-and-tumble commander.  _What is this?_  

“I...I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself, Commander Highwind.” 

“Whoa! Whoa, no need for any of that. Just Aranea, it’s fine.” 

“Sorry! I’m sorry. Uh, Aranea. I’m just,” she waved to the boys in front of them. “I’m not like Noct and them. Y’know? I’m not like you. Most of the time I feel like I don’t even  _belong_ here. I should’ve just stayed in Insomnia.” She sighed, heavily, before giving a weak smile. “But, it’s kinda worked out, I guess. The guys have been super nice, at any rate. And Prompto and I..well. He’s been the best thing about this trip, personally.”  

The dragoon smirked and nodded knowingly. “He’s pretty cute, I’ll give you that. Nice catch.” She slogged the other woman in the arm and she stumbled a bit, but she laughed, and Aranea laughed with her. “So, you really think I’m badass?” 

“Dude.” The medic stopped and turned to her, glancing at her from head to toe. “You’re like. Really hot, okay? And you can fight, and you don’t take shit.” Another blush. “I wish I could be like you.” 

Aranea just sighed and threw her arm around the other woman, moving them briskly to catch up with the guys.  

 

Aranea was soft too, wasn’t she, under the scaly, dragon-like red and black armor? Underneath it all, she was, after all, a woman; slender curves and heaving breasts and bold red lips that men would’ve cut off an arm for to kiss for just one night. But _____ was soft on the  _outside_ , too, and suddenly, to Aranea, that seemed to be the biggest strength in the world. To cry, to fall short, to feel like you’re not good enough, to have friends, to have a lover...these things made you human, right?  

 

 _Then she’s more human than I am,_ Aranea thought with a slight twist in her stomach. Then, another thought lodged itself into her brain, and it hit her like a grenade,  _She_ _must be protected._   


	14. Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all already know what it is...people falling off trains and shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to @flopity-flips for some of the ideas in here! <3

You were really starting to hate trains.  

 

 _When did this all go to shit?_ You kept thinking over and over again. Sure, before Altissia had been less than ideal, what with the attack on Insomnia, countless daemon and Imperial fights, but your group had been...together. Now you were fractured, like oil and water and pieces of metal floating in a beaker. Together, but...not cohesive. To be fair, Ignis’ outburst after mucking around in the quarry had eased some of the tension, but not much. You and Prompto were almost constantly by his side, and Ignis was probably the only other man you could’ve held hands with without Prom feeling jealous. Ignis never asked for your hand when he was stumbling, but when you interlaced your short, chubby fingers into his, he never pulled away, either. You’d privately apologized to Gladio and hugged him and kissed the cheek that you’d slapped, and he’d hugged you tight and apologized for hurting Prompto. But he was still being pretty hard on Noctis, you thought as you watched the endless trees and valleys pass you by on the wide-open railroad tracks.   

You were finally on your way to Gralea. You and Prompto sat intertwined in the booth behind Noct and Ignis, listening to his explanation of the Starscourge. The nights  _had_ been getting longer, you’d observed, if only by an hour or so at a time; but things had hastened since Lunafreya’s passing. The daemons were really upping the ante, and you’d found yourself on more than one occasion panting more heavily after using magic attacks. What would’ve normally taken a few fireballs to kill now took upwards of ten hits; and even though you had grown stronger, physically, despite your overweight stature, it still winded you; and you found yourself relying on more ethers than Noctis.

You’d approached him with this subject earlier shortly after you’d boarded the train, letting Prompto wander off to take pictures of the scenery in his camera’s action mode. 

 

“Noctis, can I have a minute?” 

He smiled weakly. Gods, he looked so tired. His violet-blue eyes were so heavy with the events of the past few weeks and you wanted nothing more than to hold him, comfort, him, take his place. Your eyes watered as you led him to the next car, away from the others.  

“What’s up, _____?” 

“So, I...you know how it feels like the daemons have been getting harder to fight? I just feel like. I don’t know. I feel like I’m not doing a good enough job of helping to fight anymore. It's taking me longer to conjure magic and healing spells, and I’m using up more magic to kill them, and then I’m so winded and I feel like I keep using up all the ethers. I feel...weaker, somehow. I can’t explain it. But ever since Altissia...” 

He flinched at the mention of the town and sighed. It was still a very sore topic. “You’re still pulling your weight. You always heal us before we even ask for it, _____. Do you know how many people can sense another’s fading life force?” 

“Uh. You? Ignis? The entire Kingsglaive?” 

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Okay, and only two of those are here with me now. Plus you. So that’s three of us.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re my Crownsguard and I am proud to have you by my side.” 

You shrugged, letting Noct’s hand fall away. “I appreciate it, but. Listen. I really do feel weaker. Like something is wrong. Maybe Ardyn did something to me?” 

“He didn’t attack you, did he, back there?” 

You shook your head. “Like I said before. I kept attacking him, but it was like he was impervious. Then once I was down and out of vitality, he just kicked me a lot. My ribs are still kinda bruised. But he didn’t retaliate with any magic of his own. I didn’t wake up feeling different in the hotel room. I just feel like...I’m not as strong as I was. Which doesn’t make sense. After all this time, shouldn’t I be getting stronger?” 

“Try to get something from the Armiger.” 

You nodded and closed your eyes, focusing. You lifted your hand and pictured in your mind’s eye the hefty golden dagger you’d picked up at the traveling merchant at the last train station. If magic wasn’t going to be enough to protect you anymore, you’d have to find some other way of getting out of your all-to-frequent hairy situations.  

You pulled across with a quick flick of your wrist and the dagger materialized in your hand, but the action was noticeably slower than what it had been in the past. You watched the king’s face as his pupils dilated, just enough to show concern, and his nostrils flared. Once the dagger was in your hand, he spoke.  

“That was...pretty slow.” 

“You see what I mean, Noctis? I’m afraid I can’t...I can’t protect you anymore. I’m useless.” You sent the dagger back in a flash of blue. “Just let me go back to Cor or something. Or I’ll go join Monica at Meldacio.”  

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re not useless. Not to me, and definitely not to Prompto.” He smirked.  

Your face flushed, then, and you gulped hard. 

“Been meaning to talk to you about that, actually,” he continued. 

“Yeah?” You squeaked. “Has...is our relationship getting in the way? I mean, we can like, break it off, if that’s what you want, Noct...” 

The king shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to thank you. Prompto is my best friend, and seeing him so happy with someone so utterly devoted to him...it’s refreshing. I just wanted...” He paused and pulled you into a hug.  

You squeezed him back, hard, a few tears surfacing and rolling down your cheeks. He rested his chin on top of your head.  

“I just wanted to thank you for loving Prompto.” He pulled away after a few minutes, black t-shirt damp with your tears, and he reached out and wiped one that had stilled on your blushed cheek. You smiled at him.  

“Thank you, Noctis.” You sniffed. “But what about...what about me? Why is this happening? Why are daemons getting harder to kill? Why am I getting weaker?” 

Noctis grabbed your hand and led you back toward to the other train car. “Let’s go talk to Specs. He’ll know what to do.” 

You nodded, but stopped him from walking any further. “For sure. But uh, hey. Continuing on the topic of Prom...I... back when we were headed to Cartanica station, while you and Gladio were having the fight, I kinda...I kinda asked Prompto to marry me.” 

Noct’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You....what?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I know I didn’t say it out of an emotional response to everything that’s happened. I’ve been thinking about it since we went to Cape Caem to fix the yacht. I know there’s no one else I could ever want, Noctis. We haven’t told the others, but I wanted to tell  _you_ , y’know, you’re the king and all, I guess maybe I wanted your blessing.” You paused to breathe. “And, uh. Maybe...maybe officiate it?”  

Noctis smiled, wiping away a tear in spite of himself. “Uh, yeah, of course, how could I not support you guys? My best friend and my best medic. Spectacular,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.  

You chuckled. “Prom said he’d propose properly after we find the crystal and confront the empire. But uh... we weren’t sure what to do about a ring. You don’t have any of that gemstone left from the hunt for Dino, do ya?” 

Noctis hummed and flashed his hand into the ethereal realm of the Armiger, and brought out a chunk of glittering red crystal. “You mean this?” 

“Oh, yes! Awesome. Uh. Do you think we could have a couple of small chunks? To get set into rings, maybe. Eventually. Somewhere.” 

Noctis smiled. “I’ll do you one better. When we were in Lestallum, I actually spent a few hours at a jewelry shop. I had planned to make rings for myself and Luna.” Suddenly his voice was sad.  

“Oh, Noctis, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough for her. She was...she was so beautiful. And powerful. I’m sorry that you never got to hold her in your arms like I did...” You wiped your eyes again, tears falling for what could have— _should have_ —been. “At the end, all she cared about was you. She was so devoted to you, Noct.” 

Noct shook his head. “No. Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t you. It was Ardyn. It was all his fault. You did your duty to the Accordian citizens, and to me, during the fight. I could never have asked more of you. It was thanks to you that Luna was comforted when she was injured. I’m glad...even in her last moments...that she met you. She was so lucky to have had that opportunity. I know that you and her would’ve been such good friends.”  

He was suddenly very small, the Chosen King of Lucis, as he reached out into the Armiger again and pulled out two black rings. One was definitely a ladies’ cut, a princess-style ring with empty sockets waiting to be filled with stones; the other was a plain black band with a skull carved into it, its eyes and nose socketed but also empty. He smiled again as he looked back up at you and sat at an empty booth and set the rings and the gemstone on the rickety table. “Not sure if this’ll come out right, but. I can try. The rings are titanium, so. They should last a long while.” 

You watched breathlessly as Noct used concentrated magic to break off the tiniest bits of stone from the hunk of shiny red rock and fasten them into the ladies’ ring first, then the men’s one second. He mumbled what you knew to be a magical binding spell, which would only be broken in either death or a retraction of lover’s affection. It was deep, old magic; the only other person who could’ve known about it was Ignis. As he finished, he flashed the gemstone back to the Armiger and held out the rings to you. “I’m not sure of the size of the girl’s one, but. You can get it resized at any merchant’s shop, I bet. Here. They’re yours. Just say the word and I’ll be more than happy to make you Mrs. Prompto Argentum.” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you took the rings from Noctis, holding back a floodgate of tears you knew wouldn’t stop if you let them start. You slid them into the personal space you'd carved out for yourself inside of Armiger with a little effort. “Oh...King...Noctis.” Overcome with emotion, you dropped to a knee and bowed, arm across your chest in the ultimate show of fealty. “I can’t...you’re so kind to me. Thank you.” 

You heard his breath hitch as he watched you bow and address him formally. You stayed bent, not knowing any other real way to show your appreciation for your friend, your _king_. After some long minutes he pulled you to your feet and hugged you tightly, releasing you as he led you back into the other car where the others were waiting. It was time to gain some wisdom from the adviser. 

 

Adryn, just on the other side of the door to the empty car the tow of you occupied, grinned slyly to himself as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, draining just a little more of your elemental prowess with each breath.  

 

 

As you sat there, leaned into Prompto, snuggled safely in his arms, the train suddenly ground to a halt, and hordes of child-size daemons began to appear on the outside windows. You smelled the rotting stench and the crackle of magic just before they appeared, and within seconds you and Prompto were up and battle ready, your dagger in one hand and crackling elemental fire in the other, albeit a little slow on the uptake; while Prom was holding one of his ridiculously large guns.  

Gladio, Noctis, and Ignis were up at the same time you were, the king and his shield giving Iggy a clue to what was happening as he nodded and pulled out an concentrated elemental flask, just as the daemons burst through the windows and sent the few other civilians of the car screaming and ducking for cover. You lit the place up in fire, then yelled, “I’m going to escort the civilians to the back of the train! You guys handle things here!” 

At first it wasn’t easy to get the people to follow you, but once they saw your Crownsguard jacket and dagger, they understood. You looked the part of the soldier, now. You were in control. You were between them and death and you made that quite plain. You escorted them from car to car, away from the fray the other four were fighting. Once you had secured them safely, you went about killing the attackers in any way you knew how. You ran back to the front of the train, cars now devoid of daemons thanks to your friends, making it to the engine room before you saw a familiar face.  

“Galdio! Ignis! Where are Noctis and Prompto?” You yelled over the thundering roar of movement that had started back up again under their expertise.  

“Highness and Prompto are fending off our attackers from above!” Ignis managed to yell, looking more than a little helpless as he was thrust back into the seat from the sudden jerking of the train.  

“Great, I’m going up!” 

“Be careful, sweetheart!” Gladio said, pulling at the train's controls, before you slid the door shut and climbed out of the window onto the roof.  

 

You might have been bigger, but you had been blessed with a decent sense of balance, at least. You steadied yourself and managed to make it to the top of the barreling locomotive just in time to see Noctis run full force at what looked like Ardyn and Prompto fighting.  

 _Of course_ _it’s_ _Ardyn_ _. It’s always,_ always  _Ardyn._ You gipped the dagger in your hand tightly and ran as fast as you could manage towards the three men who were several cars back, almost to the caboose; before skidding to a halt when you saw Noctis attack Ardyn and push him...only to see Prompto fall off the train to the snowy ground below.  

Blood thundered in your ears as screams ripped from your throat.  _But wait. That wasn’t right._ Noctis had pushed  _Ardyn,_ you were sure of it. Then the sheen of illusion vanished and the person who had looked like Prompto, still standing, morphed into the cloaked figure you had come to so ardently hate.  _Forever pulling tricks._ You lost control of all sense as you started to run towards them again, screaming for Noctis and Prompto as you crashed into Ardyn himself, only to be rewarded with the hard steel of the train as the villain vanished in a veil of black smoke. Noctis had been knocked on his feet as well, gasping for breath from the scuffle.  

“Noctis! What happened!” You pulled him up by his shirt and bored holes into him with your eyes. “Where’s Prompto?!” You tore your eyes away from him and looked back towards the ever-moving landscape. “He fell, I saw him fall! We have to go back for him!”  You released Noctis and stood and started to run, and just as you were prepared to dive headfirst off the train into the snow below, Noctis tackled you to the roof and wrapped himself around you. “It’s too dangerous, ______! I can’t lose you too! Stop!” 

You screamed again, then, and started crying. Vaguely you registered one of Noct’s strong arms around you, trying and barely keeping you from scrambling to the edge of the train car to fling yourself to the ground; you might’ve heard his desperate voice on the phone, “Ignis! ...Prompto...I pushed him, I mean, Ardyn made me...” And then you felt yourself repeatedly kicking at him to _get off._  

 _“Noctis!”_ You hissed, suddenly angry. “Go away! I’m going back for him!” 

“No!” He roared and wrestled you to the ground again, other hand now free of the phone. You were bigger than him by a longshot, not quite twice his weight but you were definitely a Noctis-and-a-half; but his muscle overpowered your sheer brute strength and he suddenly,  _easily,_ pinned you beneath him, slender thighs trapping your wide hips and strong arms holding your wrists flat to the top of the train.  

“Listen to me!” Noctis roared, somewhere between angry and apologetic. His tears fell on your face and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, lips parted in choking sobs, face flushed in anger and worry. “It’s like Ignis said—if Ardyn is involved in this, Prom’s already long gone from the spot where he fell. You know I didn’t mean—I thought it was _him_ —I thought, I...” Noctis trailed off as he released your wrists and wiped his eyes, trying and desperately failing to hold back the sobs. 

“I’m sorry, Noct, I just...he’s my boyfriend, y’know...I just...fuck, why couldn’t Ardyn have taken me instead!” You started to cry again as Noctis sank back down on top of you and wrapped himself around you, burying his head in your neck for comfort as the both of you cried into each other. Noct wasn’t affectionate often, at least not in public; not as much as in high school, not since the events of Insomnia. You had slowly started to coax him out of his shell again and then Altissia happened and then Luna had to go and fucking  _die_ and Ignis had to go get himself fucking  _blind_ and  _goddammit,_ you just wanted your friends to let you  _hug_ them; and now the love of your life had fallen off of a goddamn  _train_ and the King of Lucis was bawling into your neck like a child and  _fuck this, fuck_ _Ardyn,_ you thought,  _fuck_ _Niflheim,_ _fuck the gods._  

 

The train finally rolled to a stop in Tenebrae after you and Noct finally managed to fend off the remaining daemons and Imperial attackers that had continued to attack the train. After making sure the other passengers were safely secured and healed of any minor scrapes and wounds, you, Ignis, and Gladio held back awkwardly and explored the areas around House Fleuret as Noctis met with Ravus’ and Luna’s childhood retainer. You were surprised—or, actually, not as surprised as you thought—to see Aranea and her two goons.  

“Wasn’t there one more of you?” The silver-haired ex-mercenary asked. She looked directly at you for answers.  

“Yeah, there...was,” Noct said awkwardly as he’d gone off to find the woman in question.  

“We, uh, lost track of him,” Gladio offered weakly.  

Ignis had stayed silent.  

Aranea cut eyes and you and motioned to an open empty Magitek dropship in the distance. You followed here there.  

“What happened to Shortcake?” 

You smiled a little at the nickname in spite of it all, but found it hard to keep your composure as you explained the deception that’d made Noctis push his best friend and the love of your life from atop a moving train in the middle of a daemon attack. 

“Fuck, I...I’m really fuckin’ sorry, babe,” Aranea offered. “I know how much you love him. That sucks.” She’d said that about Ignis’s eyesight, too. “Quit mopin’, keep hopin’.”  

“Yeah, but, look. I’m not like you, Aranea. I’ve got...you know I’ve got anxiety. I don’t always have the luxury of optimism, no matter how much I want it.” 

“But you know Blondie can take care of himself, right?” 

“I mean, yeah, I know he can, he’s so strong, and capable, and...” Your voice trailed. “But Ardyn deceived  _Noctis,_ Aranea. The Chosen King of Lucis. The man who can summon three gods right now if he wanted. No matter how good Prompto is, if Noctis is having a hard time with his shit, he doesn’t stand a chance.” 

Aranea nodded solemnly. “Yeah I kinda see your point, Soybean.” 

 _Soybean_ _? A_ _ranea_ _sure is creative with nicknames._  “Uh. Yeah.” 

“Yeah I fuckin’ hate that guy. But, like I mentioned earlier, we’re in the search and rescue business now.” She grinned widely at you and crossed her arms.  

“Search and...rescue...you don’t mean?” 

“While Biggs and Wedge get his Highness’ train back on track to Gralea, why don’t you ditch the sausage party and come with me to find your lover boy?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Do you...do you mean it?” 

“Sure I do, if the royal brat lets you go. C’mon, girls' trip. Can’t guarantee it’ll be a romantic winter retreat, but. We gotta find him.” 

You nodded, wiping away your tears. “I don’t know what to say...thank you, Aranea.” 

She clamped a heavy armored hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sometimes us girls gotta stick together. Besides, it’ll be like a reverse rescue story! Sometimes the princess can save the knight, yeah?” Aranea smiled at the weak fairy tale reference. Funny, she’d never had time or thought for make-believe stories before, but...something about you made her want to witness a good, solid romance.  

 

Of course Noctis had let you go; how could he deny you? With a promise to bring Prompto back to him in one piece, and with hugs and tears between the three of you, you left your king to travel on to Gralea while you braved the wilds of Niflheim with Aranea Highwind to find Prompto.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoyed it? I'm on Ko-Fi if you're feeling generous...ya girl needs a new laptop... T_T
> 
> http://ko-fi.com/queenhomeslice


	15. Interlude: Cor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some more backstory featuring the Marshal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone help my writer's block because I know you all hate me for not updating sooner, I'm really sorry

“Marshal, sir. A letter for you.” 

Cor Leonis peered up at the spindly messenger through tired eyes. It’d been a long day of training new recruits and secret war room tactics with Clarus, and his small office was piled high with never ending business: an invitation to go to Tenebrae and privately train guards for House Fleuret still sat unanswered, and it’d been three days; small battalions on various recon missions outside of Insomnia needed backup; a stack of Thank You cards still unmailed—though, stamped and addressed, thanks to one Ignis Scientia—on the end table beside the lounge chair across from his desk. He sighed and waved the boy over.  

The boy saluted weakly, handed Cor the plain, nondescript envelope, and quietly excused himself. Cor sniffed the envelope, turned it over in his hands, wary of any invisible powders or minute bombs or hidden spells. The handwriting on the front was almost juvenile, but still very readable; a plain, inelegant print that simply said,  _this is the best I can do._   

Cor quit typing, deciding that he needed a break from this report anyway, and grabbed his letter opener. There was no wax seal on the other side, and the senders’ name and address was one unknown to him, from Leide.  _Leide._ Was this from a soldier? No, he didn’t recognize the name or the handwriting, after all, and he made it a point to know his guards. He sliced the envelope quickly and unfolded the plain piece of pink— _pink_ _—_ paper inside.  

 _Dear Marshal Cor_ _Leonis_ _, the Immortal, of His Majesty’s_ _Crownsguard_ _,_  

 _First, I hope this letter finds you well. Stories of your heroism, bravery, and patriotism have reached even our small civilian enclaves outside of the Crown City, and every day that you live and stand next to our King, I know in my heart that Lucis is safe. My reason for this letter is a simple one: for nearly six years now, I have had the power to wield elemental magic, not unlike His Majesty (though much less powerfully, I am sure). I also have healing abilities. My only training in this magic so far has been to read what few books on magic that my family has been able to procure. Surely you have questions on how I gained these abilities, and truth be told, I could not answer you if you were to ask. These powers manifested when I was ten years old—and my parents, ever pious, simply say that they are a gift from the gods. My family is not rich, and so we were unable to move to Insomnia to contact you until this point; however, we are now in a position to come to the Crown City, were His Majesty willing to help us relocate, should he find my abilities useful. I would like to show the Crown and his retainers, including you, my abilities so that I may be conscripted for military service upon reaching the age of eighteen, which will be in two years’ time. I desire nothing else in life than to serve the kingdom of Lucis and the royal family. It is with anxious yet happy heart that I await your reply. May the Kingdom of Lucis stand ever strong, may His Majesty’s reign be ever long and prosperous, and may the Astrals smile upon you._  

 _Yours truly,_  

 ___________ _________ and family_  

 

Dumbfounded, Cor rose from his desk chair and headed straight for the king’s personal chambers.  

 

The girl sat in the chair in Cor’s office, fidgety, beet-red, hesitant to make eye contact. She’d just shown him, privately, one of the most impressive displays of magic he’d ever seen, and yet she downplayed her gifts like they were a common occurrence. He let out a slow breath and addressed her again.  

“You’ve been able to do these things since you were ten?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And the only practice you’ve had has been out of books?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And you want to join the Crownsguard.” 

“If...if it pleases the Marshal, and His Majesty. I know I...I don’t look the part of a soldier, but I was thinking I could at least be trained on the more medical side of things?” She looked up, finally. “I’ve been volunteering at the hospital in my home for some time now, and I know a lot about how to heal people without magic. I thought that, coupled  _with_ magic, I could be useful on some battlefield, somewhere. I realize that I’d probably have to go through some type of light weapons training, but...” She sniffed back. “I just really want to be useful to King Regis. Y’know. In spite of...myself.” She gestured to her body. 

Cor, not normally known for being overly-affectionate, stared at her, this country girl from nowhere; his eyes took in her plain, medium-length hair, her soft, round eyes, her plush and plump curves. He’d never had a problem with size—Libertus wasn’t exactly svelte, after all, and he could hold his own against Cor almost any day—and it was clear to him that this was a thorn in the girl’s side he’d constantly have to soothe. He swallowed. “ I think,” he said, “that it’s time for you to meet His Majesty.” 

 

The pouty prince had acted just about as expected, Cor thought to himself, as he let himself back into his office that night. He’d hoped that maybe a girl being around Noctis would open him up a little more. His second year of high school was starting the next week, and the girl was to be transferred there as well. Regis, more than impressed with the girl, had welcomed her with open arms and set her and her family up in a modest house in a neighborhood not far from the Citadel itself. The girl’s parents, busy with other small children, had all but relinquished the care and control of their oldest daughter to Cor and the rest of the Crownsguard. He’d been pleased when the other female members of the military had drawn _______ in like she’d always been there, and his eyes had crinkled with mirth at seeing her blush and laugh with the other young recruits. He hoped that she’d stay. The gods were not known for bestowing magical abilities to just anyone outside of the Lucis Caelum or Oracle bloodlines, and that’s what confused Cor the most. That, and the fact that she was way too modest for her own good. Almost too nice to even be in any sort of military service, but Niflheim was becoming braver, and they needed all the help they could get. Cor thanked whichever god was listening that the girl had come to Insomnia when she did.  

 

 

“Who do you think is going to break first?” Crowe whispered to him.  

Cor raised an eyebrow but said nothing, only watched Noctis’ best friend, Prompto, and his medic, _________, spar against each other. Prompto was holding a large pistol filled with tiny pellets—enough to sting when hit, but not seriously injure. On the other hand, ________ was practicing controlling the intensity and strength of elemental attacks. She’d gotten several good hits on Prompto, the edges of his own black Crownsguard tank top singed, his hair standing up in random points from one too many volts of lightning.  

_________ was flushed and panting, trying to practice being quick on her feet to avoid Prompto’s deadly accuracy, but her arms—and most likely, legs and stomach—were still going to be a minefield of tiny red welts.  

“Prompto will probably win this round again,” Cor replied.  

“I’m not talking about that.” Crowe shot him a sideways stare and smirked.  

“Then what are you talking about?” He looked away from the training session and met Crowe’s curious gaze.  

“You mean you don’t see it?” 

“See what, Crowe.” Cor rubbed his eyes. He was too old for this.  

“See the sexual tension down there. It’s so thick you’d need the Armiger to cut through it.” 

Cor blushed only slightly. He  _had_ started to pick up on weird interactions between ________ and Prompto, but he’d always thought it was one-sided on her part, but now that Crowe mentioned it, the other day, he’d overheard.... 

“Eos to Marshal,” Crowe was saying, interrupting the connections being made in his brain. “The others and I started a pool. Who do you think will confess first?” 

“And this concerns me how?” 

“Money?” Crowe shot him a hopeful grin. “And because it’s fun?” 

“What do I care if two of the Crownsguard fuck each other?” 

“Oh, you’re  _such_ a crotchety old man, Marshal. This is young love, don’t you get it? Fresh out of high school, formally inducted into the prince’s personal guard, having been around each other almost nonstop for over two years, and neither one has said anything! It’s the perfect romance story.” 

Cor snorted. “Never pegged you for a hopeless romantic, Altuis.” 

Crowe laughed. “Yeah well, there’s probably a lot you don’t peg me for.” She nudged his ribs. “So, what about it? You bet money on Blondie down there, or her?” 

Cor pursed his lips. He supposed it was no harm, no foul, to see where ________’s and Prompto’s relationship might go. It might be good for the both of them to get together—they were two of the jumpiest, most anxious people Cor had ever met. Maybe they’d cancel each other and mellow out one of these days. Prompto was as high-strung as a couerl on catnip, and ________ was as soft-spoken and non-invasive as hummingbird. He could see it. But who would break first? “Hm. Put my money down on _________ , for first shared feelings. Somehow I don’t think Argentum’s got it in him.” 

“Oh man, you’re the odd man out on that one. Almost everyone else thinks that he’s gonna break first.” 

Cor shrugged. “Call it a gut feeling.” He turned back to look at the mat where the two teens were duking it out, but all activity had stopped. _________ had gotten Prompto pinned down underneath her and had iced his hands and ankles to the mat. His pellet gun was just out of his grasp, and she was straddling him, laughing, face flushed with sweat. Prompto’s face, neck and chest were about as red as the tank top he was wearing; Cor could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and tried to gasp for air. He thought he might’ve noticed an involuntary shift in the sharpshooter’s pants, just below the belt, but he turned to quickly to really be sure. 

Crowe slugged him on the shoulder as he left, and he heard her call the end of the match, with ________ the winner.  


	16. Snowflakes, Soybean, Shortcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Episode Prompto, y'all already know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it took me so long; there was a lot to include here. :(

When was the last time you’d ever been this cold? Either you couldn’t remember, because the cold was slowly zapping all coherent mental faculties; or you were sure that you’d never, actually, been  _this_ cold. But yet, here you were, prepared to face freezing temperatures—and anything worse—to find the love of your life. And you were more than ready to kick Ardyn’s ass for what he’d done, for what he’d made Noctis do.  

So you and Aranea barreled on through the rugged landscape on the back of the fastest snowmobile she could find. Neither of you had said much after you’d gotten together equipment and supplies. It was twenty-four agonizing hours of hacking in to imperial radio communications to hopefully glean any bit of information about a captured Lucian prisoner. And when a break in the lull of radio static came, it wasn’t even much to go on, but something about trouble in a remote Magitek Research Facility had caught Aranea’s ear, and so to the research facility you had gone.  

 

Which brought you to now, gripped tightly to the small woman in front of you at the controls of the speeder. All you could see was white, with some green of the trees flashing by for good measure. You didn’t know how long you’d been riding; your legs were cramping and you had to pee. You were hungry—freeze-dried military rations weren’t cutting it today, even though you’d been surviving on them for a little while now. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for Iggy’s cooking!  

 _That’s all in the past,_ you thought with a heavy sigh. With one shaky hand you reached up to pull the fleece beanie down a little more around your ears and adjusted your goggles. If there was one thing you could thank your large body for, it was for generating more body heat than the average bear. You reached back around Aranea and hugged her tighter, leaning forward to rest your upper body onto her back. She shifted a little and turned her head slightly.  

“You okay, Soybean?” she shouted over the hum of the speeder.  

“Fine!” you shouted back, and settled forward on her closer. She was so warm, despite her small stature. Her silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and your face on top of it kept it from whipping in the wind.  _Her hair smells so good_ , you thought as you felt yourself drifting off into a doze.  

“Hey, I think I see it! We’re almost there!” she hollered back towards you, but you had already met that soft doze halfway, just barely conscious enough to remember to hold on tight to her stomach.  

 

You jerked your head up some time later, drool lining your lips and the top of your thick winter coat. Blinking slowly, you felt a shift of a body underneath you. Your eyes met a long silver ponytail, a slender back... _oh, right._ You lifted up and stretched, taking in the admittedly beautiful scenery of Niflheim.  

Aranea turned back. “Fell asleep on me, babe. C’mon. We’re here.” 

“I’m sorry! It’s just been...a long few days.” 

She nodded. “I know Soybean. But look.” She gestured around.  

You blinked away the sleep and really began to observe your surroundings. Snow-capped mountains and fields of white as far as the eye could see, tall evergreen trees breaking up the white and gray. If Prompto was here after all, he had to be in field photography heaven—if the country wasn’t such a vat of evil, it would make the picture-perfect postcard. You vaguely wondered how far from civilization you were as Aranea clapped you on the shoulder and motioned to the open gates and the bleak building beyond.  

“We’d better get a move on.” 

You nodded. “Right.” 

As you trudged through the snow behind the ex-mercenary, you called your dagger to you from the Armiger. It came with a little effort, and you hastily attached the sheath to the belt of your insulated pants. You were already loaded down manually with potions and elemental flasks, choosing not to rely solely on your past powers. If you really were getting weaker, whether from the surge of daemon activity, the longer nights, or some cruel twist of fate, then you realized that you had to start relying only on yourself and not the magic of Noctis and his father. 

“Nice dagger,” Aranea was saying as she held a badge to a side door of the facility. A light blinked green and the door slid open, revealing a nearly pitch-black corridor.  

You followed her inside and jumped a little at the sound of the door  _whooshing_ shut. “Uh, thanks.” 

“You any good with it?” 

“I think you probably already know the answer, Aranea.” 

“Then why carry it?” 

“Well uh. I think I’m getting weaker? It’s hard to explain. It’s getting harder for me to call things from Noct’s Armiger—uh, the thing, where keeps all his glowing swords that swirl around him in battle.” 

“Oh, that. The king’s magic and all. What sustains the wall around Insomnia.” 

“Yeah, yeah. And I’m becoming more winded after using elemental attacks. So I’ve had to resort to alternative methods of fighting. Though, I’m pretty sure I’ll still just get in the way.” You shrugged. “Not much I can do about it, I guess. Ignis thinks it’s an effect of the Starscourge.” 

“Could be. But I have faith that you’ll learn quickly. Remember, the pointed end goes out toward your target.” 

You chuckled. “I know that much, anyway. I did have some training in close combat but not much. I’m a medic after all. I’m supposed to ultimately heal, not hurt.” 

“You hurt me that one time,” Aranea grinned. “That was quite a jolt of lightning you shot through me.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry!” You panicked. “Do you hate me? I was only trying to protect Noctis...” 

“Of course I don’t hate you, silly This is a war. People are supposed to get hurt. And besides, I was your enemy. I would’ve done the same to you.” 

“Yeah.” 

Aranea smiled and linked arms with you as the both of you rounded a corner and were greeted with a wide-open room, nearly the size of a warehouse, of green-tinted and backlit tanks. Tanks...with people in them.  

“Shiva’s tits,” Aranea cursed. “We’re in the Magitek lab.” 

“What the hell...” You couldn’t help but run up to one of the tanks, boots clanking heavy on the steel floor. The person inside was completely submerged in fluid, hooked up to wires and a clear oxygen mask. You registered a barcode on his wrist; he was completely naked and helpless, just...floating. “Aranea,” you breathed as you left the first tank and ran up to another one, and another one, until you’d inspected every tank in the room, which had to have been at least fifty. You jogged back to Aranea, breathless. “What...what are all these men?” You looked at her with pleading, watery eyes. “And why do they all look like Prompto?” 

Aranea looked up and cocked an eyebrow at the first man in the tank, then turned back to you. “These,” she said, “are the Magitek troopers. Well, before they’ve been daemonized.” 

“But why are they all him? Why?!” You were crying now, hands clutched around Aranea’s coat, head hung low.  

“I don’t know, Soybean. C’mon. There’s bound to be some answers around here. And with any luck, your man.” 

You released her from your grip and nodded, sniffing back the snot and tears.  

As you explored the rooms for what must’ve been hours, Aranea poured over any abandoned papers and voice recordings she could find, breathing out various curses as the revelations of what the Empire was planning all started to piece together.  

“So you had another motive for coming out here,” you said as you read another journal entry from the scientist named Verstiel Besithia. 

“Told you, I can’t stand the Chancellor. And the MTs give me the creeps. Only humans in my squadrons. Well, back when I had one, anyway. I wanted to know more about what the Empire was really up to. Finding loverboy was just a bonus for you. Killing two birds with one stone and all that. Besides, he’s connected with all this.” 

You nodded. You weren’t sure of the full story, but this much was clear—Prompto was a clone, a man who was supposed to have become the hundreds and thousands of mindless zombies you and Noct and the others had been killing on your ill-fated road trip. How, or why, he had escaped this place was still unclear, but... 

“Hey, Soybean, check this out.” Aranea cleared her throat. “Says in this journal entry that about twenty years ago, elite members of the Lucian Crownsguard who were doing field reconnaissance in Niflheim stole an infant clone that had yet to be altered. He hadn’t been given the accelerated growth hormones, nor had he been fused with a daemon.” 

“That’s...that’s gotta be him,” you cried as you ran over to the table where Aranea was sitting, mounds of papers and notes and notebooks open all around her. “He couldn’t know, he doesn’t know...oh gods.” 

“Hey, don’t freak out about it. He’s been here longer than we have. And if Ardyn was involved, revealing this sort of traumatic shit is just what the bastard gets off on. I’m sure he knows by now. Hell, he could’ve already  _met_ Besithia.” 

“We have to find him,” you said with resolve, trying to reason with the emotional turmoil that was forming within you at this new revelation. Fuck who Prompto was supposed to have become—the only thing that mattered now was that he was  _alive_. 

 

As the two of you got deeper and deeper into the facility—and met more MTs in one concentrated area than you’d ever encountered before—you began to hear a rapid exchange of gunfire the deeper you got to the facility’s center.  

“Whatever’s going on down there, it sounds like where we need to be.” Aranea readied her huge lance again and bristled with the anticipation of another battle.  

You gulped hard and unsheathed your dagger—it was dripping black with fresh MT blood. Somehow, instinct had taken over and you found it almost easy to just shut out the world and  _charge_ at the imperial troops, channeling all your anxiety, confusion, and angst into the primal act of killing.  Throwing your weight around was your only advantage; you hit the daemonic soldiers  _hard_  with your bulky frame, going in for the kill with your dagger to their throat after you got them on the ground. You’d also lobbed a couple of choice flasks from afar, lighting various rooms up in fire and lightning and ice and taking out upwards of ten MTs at once, earning some back pats and praise from Aranea, who was about five times as deadly with her own weapon; but the girl-to-girl encouragement was nice, anyway.  

The distinct sound of a machine gun finally came to a halt; whoever, or whatever, was on the other side, was finished with their assault for now. You and Aranea crouched low on either side of the door and waited, nodding to each other and mouthing  _On_ _the count of three_.  

And when the door opened, the person who stepped through to the other side was not an MT, or even Ardyn, but... 

“Prompto!” you screeched like a banshee out of hell as you launched yourself full-force at the sharpshooter. Your dagger clattered to the ground, wet and forgotten.  

“What the—ah!” was all he had time for as you tackled him to the ground in a crushing hug.  

Aranea stood from her attack position and stood over the two of you, smiling. Prompto started to cry as he frantically looked from her, back to you, and back to her.  

“How did...where did...how are you here?!” Prompto wrapped his arms around and shifted the two of you to a seated position, holding you sideways in his lap as you clutched at his back and buried your head into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and tore the beanie from your head, wiggling his face back and forth in your limp, damp hair. 

“It’s just us, sunshine. Your friends are headed to Gralea to find the Crystal. I took your girlfriend here—” 

“Fiancée, actually,” said Prompto. 

“Pardon?” 

“We’re engaged. She asked me.” 

You silently nodded in confirmation, sniffing back the relieved tears that wouldn’t stop falling.  

“Oh, wow, who’d have thought. Well anyway. Sent my two guys Biggs and Wedge to see the train and your kingly pal safely to the capitol while we searched for you. And I'd say that we were successful.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you were.” Prompto sniffed. “Hey.” He put his fingers under your chin and met your eyes. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you panted, heart still racing. This wasn’t a dream. Ardyn hadn’t killed him. He was alive and he was holding you; and now, you could face anything.  

Prompto smiled and bent down and planted his lips against yours in a chaste kiss, which you eagerly melted into. He pulled back, face flushed. “I thought I was done for. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“When Noct pushed you—I mean, he thought he was pushing Ardyn, I was so angry. I’m sorry. I literally almost jumped off the train after you and he held me down and I fought against him. I didn’t know what to do.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you stayed safe.” Prompto petted your hair.  

“Well, I’m not safe now. None of us are.” 

“You could say that again.” Aranea surveyed the vast empty room. The three of you were up on a scaffolded bridge that wrapped around the upper edge, outside of the door which led to the room Prom had been in minute earlier. The main level of the room, which had stairs up to the bridge you were on now, was a mess of bookshelves, maps, papers, beakers, and one or two of the tanks you’d seen upon entering the facility, though these were empty; and desks piled high with books, half-empty beakers of bright green liquid. “This place is a fuckin’ maze, and a nightmare to navigate.” 

“Yeah, don’t I know it. I’ve been in here for days.” Prompto looked at you, unspoken questions hanging thick in the air like fog. “I think I know the way out, though; I saw a map of the facility in the room just before this. You...you must have seen some things. C’mon, let’s find somewhere to rest for now.”  

“You two take the speeder outside.” Aranea waved her hand. “I’m not quite done in here. Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” 

“Right.” Prompto looked at you, expression somewhat worried. “Let’s get you to safety.” 

You nodded, not really knowing what to say. Aranea helped you to your feet and Prompto stood once you were free of his lap. You threw your arms around the smaller woman and whispered “Thank you” in her ear. You felt for your dagger; once you realized that you’d dropped it by the door, you wiped it on your pants and sheathed it. Prompto took your hand and the two of you left the room and Aranea behind, seeking refuge out in the frozen Niflheim tundra.  

 

It was nearly dark by the time you and Prompto had ducked and dodged all of the MTs patrolling the outside of the facility. You and Aranea hadn’t met any resistance coming in to the secluded research center territory, but clearly you and Prom were leaving by the front door, and the run-ins with troops seemed to go on for miles, no matter how far you got from the laboratory.  

Finally, you saw a thawed lake up ahead, with the telltale signs of an abandoned campsite that was just inside of an overhang created by a craggy, rocky structure. You put the snowmobile in park—you’d been driving so Prompto could shoot the troopers and keep them off your tail—and Prompto helped you hop off. The two of you walked to the empty patch of ground. There was already a pile of firewood in the clearing, so you brought out a fire flask and smashed it over the sticks, causing it to erupt in soothing, warm flame.  

You sat down, and Prompto sat next to you, putting one arm around you. You were both quiet for a long while. Finally, he spoke.  

“So.” 

“What?” 

“Is this the part where you say you’re leaving me, or?” 

“Prompto, I love you, but what the actual fuck are you talking about?” You shrugged his arm off and turned to stare at him.  

Gods, the look in his eyes was something that you never wanted to see ever again from any human being, let alone him. He was biting his lip, trying to hold back the onslaught of tears you knew came too easily to him. His eyes were wide with terror, fear, and longing, as if he were saying  _Please don’t go_. “Why would I leave you?” 

“I’m one of them, right? Or, I was supposed to be. How can you love someone like me? I’m a fake, a nobody. I don’t even have real parents. Just the DNA of some evil, crazy old man. I wasn’t even  _born_ ...I was  _created_.” Prompto rolled his coat sleeve up and took off his glove, and finally—he finally took off the black leather cuff you’d never seen him without. And there it was, the barcode. Sequences of letters and numbers above and below it, distinct diamond shapes on either side. He leaned forward and grabbed a smoking stick from the fire and held it over the top of his wrist.  

“Prom,” you said, pained, too frozen in fear to even stop what it looked like he was about to do.  

“__________, I’ve been living a lie my whole life, desperately trying to fit myself into places where I don’t belong. I never knew why, my adopted parents just always told me to keep this marking covered. I’ve been so scared of it, and with good reason. If the others saw it...they’d never accept me.” And he dropped the hand holding the burning piece of wood to the top of the tattoo and cried out in pain.  

“Stop!” You grabbed the stick after a few long seconds and threw it from the campsite, where it fizzled into smoke in the outlying snowbanks. You brought a small vial from one of the pockets in your jacket and poured its contents over the barcode. The skin that wasn’t jet-black was burned and red, but the actual code itself was unharmed. The potion worked quickly, clearing Prompto’s pale, freckled skin of any remaining burns or charred skin. “You big dumb idiot,” you said as you put the empty glass vial back into your pocket. “Look at me.” 

Prompto, crying, brought his crystal blue gaze to meet your own. You brought both hands to the sides of his face and held him captive. “You wanna talk about trying to fit in place you don’t belong, look at me. At least, at least you got to live in Insomnia before you knew any different. Imagine a bunch of ass-backwards country bumpkins making fun of you for not only being fat, no matter how many times you made it a point to eat  _another_ goddamned salad in front of them, but for having weird, magic powers that only the king and his glaives are supposed to have. Imagine going your whole life knowing that you’d never be beautiful. Imagine suffering for four years being so close yet so far away with the love of your life. Imagine walking on eggshells around a prince because at any minute, he could deem you not good enough and kick you back to the desert where you came from.” 

Prompto sniffed and said nothing.  

“You really think that after all we’ve been through, that after everything you’ve done for Noct, Iggy, Gladio...that they’d just abandon you like that? You should have  _seen_ Noct after you fell, Prom. He was going crazy. We both were. You’re his best friend in the whole world. I think you should give your king a little more credit as far as close friends are concerned.”  You paused, expecting him to interrupt, but he didn’t. “You are the most  _real_ person I have ever met. You are stunningly beautiful, Prompto, and I don’t care if there’s a million other people who look like you. None of them have your smile, your warmth. None of them make stupid jokes like you, none of them are as good with guns as you. They can’t love chocobos like you do, or take pictures like you can, or sing goofy songs that cheer everyone up. And most importantly, no one can love me like you can.” You leaned forward and put your forehead against his. “You are not a fake.”  

Prompto sniffed and closed his eyes. He smiled weakly and opened his mouth to reply, but his head snapped around to look out into the empty field before he could say anything. 

Aranea slowly came into view, and she sat on the opposite side of the fire. “See you two made it out in one piece.” 

“I’m never driving that stupid thing again, by the way,” you said, pointing at the silver-haired woman.  

Aranea laughed. “Aw c’mon, it’s not that bad.” She turned to Prompto. “You doing okay there, Shortcake?” 

“I’m taller than you are,” he whined back, ignoring the question.  

“He’s not okay, he just tried to burn off his barcode, right in front of me.” 

“You dumbass,” Aranea said fondly. “The woman you love is literally right there and you’re still wallowing in self-loathing? At first light, you two should high-tail it to Gralea to join the others. I know they’ll be happy to see you.” 

“They won’t,” Prompto said quickly, eyes darting to her, then to the ground. “Not after they learn what I am.” 

“Oh for the love of the Six,” you sighed. “Can you please talk to him? Obviously being someone’s fiancée means nothing when it comes to comforting words. Clone or not, looks like all men are just that stubborn.” You shuffled away from Prompto and stood.  

“No, wait! _________, please don’t leave me, I’m sorry...” Prompto brought his knees to his chest and cried.  

“Go easy on him, he is having a bit of an existential crisis,” Aanea said.  

You huffed but sat back down, putting an arm around Prompto and making him lean against you.  

Aranea sighed. “The only one who has control of your life is you, Prompto,” she continued. “You won’t know what they say unless you go to them and talk. Personally, I don’t think your origins matter. Who cares where you come from? I’ve seen the way your friends interact with you. They love you for who you are on the inside, not your cloned DNA or some stupid branding on your wrist. And look at this woman. She’s head over heels for your stupid ass. Surely that has to mean something to you.” 

Prompto lifted his head from between his legs and looked at you, but you were gazing into the fire.  

“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry,” and he leaned on your shoulder again.  

“For once, I just want you to believe me. If not for your sake, then for mine. Please.” 

“Yeah,” Prompto breathed. “I love you, __________.” 

“I love you too, Prompto.” 

 

The next morning when you woke up, you were alone. You were too cold and too tired to move. Prompto was gone, but you knew that he couldn’t have gone far. Aranea was stoking the fire and roasting some small animal over the flames. She looked at you as you sat up, disoriented.  

“Where’s Prom?” 

“Ah, he went...for a walk. Said he needed to be alone for a bit. But he’ll be back. We’re not done here, I’ll tell you that. The shit I discovered last night isn’t something we can just let slide. There’s another facility not far from here, so as soon as your man gets back, we’ll bust down its doors.” She withdrew the skewer with the dead creature on it. “Hungry? I already had one.” 

“Oh gods, meat. I’m not even going to ask what it is.” 

Aranea chuckled as you took the warm stick and began to tear into the charred carcass. “Just a snow hare.” 

You made a momentary grimace. “Aw shit, I’m eating a cute little rabbit? Dammit.” 

“Just eat, I don’t know how many more rations we have in the pack on the snowmobile.” 

You grunted in reply but kept eating, relishing the warm, tender meat as it slid down your throat. When you’d had your fill, Aranea handed you a flask of water. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah,” she said.  

“Shit, it’s so cold.” You closed the flask and put it to the side. “Uh. There’s not any way to say this without sounding incredibly, painfully awkward, but...if you’re not going anywhere for a while...would you want to...like. Share body heat. For warmth.” 

Aranea cocked an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to cuddle, __________?” 

Your face went fifty shades of red. “Uh. I guess. Kinda? You don’t have to, it’s fine. It’s useless going anywhere until Prom gets back. We might as well just conserve our energy.” You shrugged. “I’m pretty good at cuddling. Just sayin’.” 

It was Aranea’s turn to blush, now. “Shortcake’s not gonna get jealous?” 

You laughed. “Pfffff, only jealous that he wasn’t like, wedged between us.” You shifted your and Prompto’s sleeping bags closer to the fire and beckoned the smaller woman over. You laid down and held your arms out.  

“There’s a first for everything,” Aranea muttered as she made her way to you and settled herself in your arms.  

You opened your legs and the smaller woman pushed one slender thigh between your thicker ones; you wrapped your arms around her and brought the top of the sleeping bags over you. You felt the shaky rhythm of her heart and her warm breath on your neck.  

“All good?” 

“Yeah,” Aranea breathed. “This is...weirdly...nice? You’re pretty soft.” 

“Told ya.” You laughed. “At least I’m good at something.” 

“But you’re warm inside and out,” Aranea said as she snuggled you even closer. 

“Oh...heh, wow. Thanks?” 

“You got all mad at your boy for not seeing himself the way others see him, so pot, meet kettle. Shut up and take a damn compliment, Soybean.” 

“Ah, yes ma’am!” You tucked your head even further down. “Hey, Aranea?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you call me ‘Soybean’?” 

“Uh, because beans are cute and round? And you’re...cute and... round?” 

You snorted into a full-out laugh, patting her slender back. “Makes sense I guess. Thanks. It’s weird to have someone so hot call me cute.” 

“Well you are. And your worth is more than the measure of how good you can fight, you know.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you stayed like that for a long while until Prompto finally returned, still looking pretty haggard but full of hope and determination. When he found the two of you, it was late in the mid-afternoon, and the sun was low over the mountains. Prompto nearly dropped his gun at the sight of you and Aranea intertwined in the sleeping bags.  

“Hey, hey! Was I going to be invited to this cuddle fest or what?” he whined, dropping to his knees behind you and shaking you awake.  

“Hm?” You slowly opened one eye and came out of your doze. “Prom?” 

“It’s me, I’m back. I’m okay.” 

“Yeah? Good.” You turned as much as you could to face him, not wanting to disturb Aranea. 

“So is this a new thing or...?” Prompto smirked and waved to the lump in the sleeping bag.  

“Oh stop. We were just preserving warmth. Besides,  _you_ left. Who else was I supposed to cuddle with?” 

“What’s that?” Aranea brought her head up from within the covers. “Oh, Shortcake, you’re back.” 

“Yeah, and you’re stealing my fiancée.” 

Aranea laughed. “Hey, it was her idea. Besides, I couldn’t just let her stay cold all day.” She winked and turned to you. “Told you he’d be jealous.” 

“Jealous that I wasn’t invited,” Prompto pouted.  

“You left!” You laughed again, finally moving to disentangle yourself from the other woman. “C’mon. Aranea said we had business inside another facility?” 

Prompto’s face settled into hard resolve. “Yeah. My...dad...was planning something pretty gnarly, and we have to stop him.” 

You nodded. “Let’s do it. And then we can get back to Noct.” 

Prompto smiled. “Right.”  

 

 

The fight with the gargantuan, half MT-half mammalian monster called the Barbarus was the most insane fight you’d witnessed yet. The creature was surprisingly quick, climbing up the rafters in the wide-open room while Prompto tried desperately to aim his largest guns at the thing. Aranea was definitely faster, using her Dragoon Dive technique over and over. The battle had gone on for nearly forty-five minutes, and the daemon was seemingly no closer to slowing down, much less dying. You’d learned the hard way to stay out of reach of its sickening white fog, doing what you could with your elemental flasks from afar and healing Prompto with what energy you could draw from within yourself.  

“Prompto!” You ran over to him as he was reloading his gun, Aranea having momentarily distracted the creature by doing her special techniques on it so the sharpshooter could get crackshots at it and deal more damage. You gave him a small vial containing half a hi-potion and placed your hand on his bare face, healing the rest of him your old-fashioned way. You exhaled long and slow as the cuts and burns on his face started to fade.  

“Thank you, babe,” he breathed, pressing a quick kiss to your chapped lips.  

Coughing a little from the exertion of using your magic, you held his face in your hands for a precious few seconds and then retreated to the other side of the room, knowing that spreading out with ranged attacks was the best strategy. As you turned back to the Barbarus and Aranea, the smaller woman lept aside just in time as the beast erupted into flame, its fur burning off as it lodged itself back into the rafters of the ceiling, readying for another leap at any of the three targets before it.  

“What does this mean?” you shouted as Aranea landed some distance away from you.  

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good! We’ve definitely hurt it, but I don’t know how much fight it has left!” 

“Ugh, let’s hope it’s down by at least half!” You heard gunfire on the other side of the room, indicating Prompto was back on the offensive, and you couldn’t help but wince as you heard his cries when the creature flung random debris in Prompto’s direction.  _Shit, I have to go to him._ You lobbed another elemental flask at the creature, hoping to catch it off-guard with some lightning, but you only succeeded in drawing its attention to you for a short second before its gaping maw opened up and spewed a steady stream of flame. “Holy fuck!” you screamed as you ducked and rolled behind a wide support beam just in time. You had no idea where Prompto was now; you were certain that you were trapped behind the column as random pieces of large furniture were thrown in your direction, effectively making a wall.  

Gunshots, grunts, and groans from Prompto and Aranea as they continued to fight the beast. You felt Prompto’s life force fading fast and you grimaced as you roared, willing your magic to go out towards him and heal him, begging the gods to  _just keep him alive._ The sound of more things being tossed around by the creature, the roar from him as Aranea jabbed with her lance over and over, machine gun fire fading, the sparse fire of a sniper rifle, and then...silence, finally.  

“Where’s _________!” Prompto screamed desperately.  

You stood and started to climb over the debris the monster had thrown your way. “Here! I’m here, Prom!” You emerged and Prompto jogged over to you, embracing you and lifting you in a tight, panicked hug. “Are you okay? I have potions left.” 

“Nice job Soybean,” Aranea was saying as she came up on the both of you. “That hybrid monster was no joke.” 

You handed her and Prompto two of the last vials of hi-potion you had with you, and you settled for just a half a potion yourself, being careful to ration since you were nowhere near the state the others were in.  

“Thanks.” Prompto kissed your head and turned to Aranea. “Now to find what Besithia was talking about. His final creation, the thing he transferred his soul into when I killed him.”  

“The what?” You looked at Prompto, confused, but at that moment, you felt a rumble in the earth and several machines going haywire with the announcement that something called the  _Immortalis_ had been activated.  

 

 

There was barely enough room on the speeder for the three of you, but Aranea had insisted on driving, and it was all you could do to cling to what little seat there was left as Prompto half-stood on the back of the snowmobile, hands strong and firm on the machine gun, shooting wildly at the giant serpentine entity that was chasing you through the Niflheim outlands.  

Verstial Besithia had fused his mortal soul and consciousness into probably the largest machine you’d ever seen in your life. Besithia’s crazed, surly voice was booming throughout the frozen tundra, babbling something about  _getting revenge on the world that has denied me my glory_ or some shit. Frankly, all you cared about was Prompto firing a steady stream of bullets into the monster’s red-hot core. You kept your head low and fed rounds of ammunition into the machine gun while Prom fired at Immortalis and Aranea steered away from his deadly energy blasts.  

Aranea pulled a little too slowly to the right and a spark from the monster’s attack hit the back of the speeder, causing Prompto to yelp in surprise. “Shit!” The ex-mercendary looked back. “Okay back there?” 

“Ye-yeah!” said Prompto, finding a steady position again and resuming fire at the mechanical beast that was chasing you.  

Your position, though cramped and uncomfortable, did give you a gratuitous view of your fiancé's ass, so it’s not like you were complaining.  

The Immortalis made one final, desperate surge at the snowmobile and charged its power core to blast again, but Prompto’s careful shooting hit its bullseye and the monster imploded, finally leaving the three of you safe.  

 

As the three of you sped on towards Gralea, Ardyn looked on from a distance, humming a small victory tune.  


	17. Till Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been captured; but don't worry, the rescue comes with a really great after-party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAYYYYYY, PLEASE TELL ME THIS MAKES UP FOR MY LONG ABSENCES *lies prostrate on the floor, begging forgiveness*

 

“__________!”   

You lifted your head weakly. _How long had you been chained to the wall?_ The heavy iron chains around your wrists and neck were overwhelming; you’d spent most of your time curled up in the fetal position. You didn’t know how long you’d been here. You didn’t know where Prompto was, if he was dead, if the others were dead...where was Noctis? _Did he find the crystal?_ Were the MTs going to come back and torture you again? Was Ardyn going to come back and suck out more of your magic? 

“__________!”  

You heard it again, faintly, and you blinked up into the bright lights and squinted. The cold, empty room was just as you’d left it before falling into a fitful doze hours earlier. You were nearly naked, only a tank top covering your top half, underwear thankfully in place, socks on; but boots and other clothes who-knows-where. You hurt all over, you could see bruises and scrapes on your shins and thighs. Your hair was matted to your scalp, sweaty and sticky and bloody. The chains and iron links around your wrists and neck were heavy, but the chains were long and you managed to sit up. When was the last time you’d had water? You pushed every fiber of your being back into consciousness and coughed before letting out a weak “Noctis!” 

Had it been the king’s voice you’d heard? You weren’t sure at this point. The last thing you remembered was escaping Immortalis and the Magitek Research Facility with Prompto and Aranea, and she’d left the two of you behind to catch up with her own subordinates, but Ardyn had gotten to you before Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis; and he’d almost immediately separated the both of you, and he’d worn you down bit by bit, knowing every insecurity you’d ever had, pushing you further and further into the deepest crevices of your psyche.  

He’d lifted the veil of your memory, then, and you saw yourself—a bubbly, happy, innocent girl playing alone on a swing set when he’d inserted himself into you and granted you the advanced magic you were so accustomed to. Now he’d taken it away and you were so weak. You’d been endlessly praying to the gods this whole time, begging them to explain your purpose in Noctis’ journey to fulfill his calling. What use were you if you couldn’t heal him and fight for him? Had it been the gods’ plan all along to use  _you_ as a means for Ardyn to get close to the prince? Had you been Ardyn’s unwitting pawn this whole time?  

 _No._  You refused to believe it, even though the thought kept presenting itself over and over. _My life must mean more than that...what about_ _Prompto_ _?..._ _Prompto_ _needs me...we’re going to get married..._ Slumped against the cold, grimy wall, you felt yourself falling away again before you heard the unmistakable scuffle of feet and mixed voices of varying octaves. You blinked again, trying to focus. Shapes of black appeared on the other side of the barred steel gate you’d been looking at for what seemed like years. It practically exploded off the hinges in a red-hued flash and suddenly the dark figures were on you. Glassy-eyed, you recognized them vaguely as your friends. _Noctis. Ignis._ _Gladio_ _._ _Prompto._ You tried to call out to them but your throat was too dry, too tired to form even one more syllable. Was it another one of Ardyn’s tricks? You closed your eyes again, head slumping to the side, too tired and weak to even respond. You resigned yourself to supplicating yourself to Ardyn’s twisted torture again even as the four men were screaming above you.  

“She’s out of it!” Gladio huffed, yanking the chains out of the wall.  

“How bad is it?” asked Ignis, a little behind the other three. He produced a potion from his coat pocket and stood, waiting for instructions.  

“It’s...she’s pretty banged up. Half-naked,” Noctis choked. “How do...fucking hell, how do we get these cuffs _off_?” He held you in his arms. “It’s like she doesn’t even realize we’re here!” He gritted his teeth. “Ardyn, you fucking bastard...!”  

You vaguely registered his warmth in the midst of your nearly-unconscious state as you let your head loll against his midsection. 

Prompto was beside himself. He was

panicking, he didn’t know what to do, how to react. Seeing you so broken, both in mind and body, was breaking _him_ more than Ardyn’s torture on himself. Had Ardyn been harder on you because you were a girl? He could barely see for the tears that were welling up in his eyes.  

“I can’t...Gladio, can you carry her? Me and Prom’ll look for keys.” Noctis turned to his best friend, whose head was in his hands. He still hadn’t touched you. He was afraid, so afraid, and he thought that if he touched you, you’d disappear and he couldn’t bear that thought. “Hey, Prom, it’s going to be okay. She’s alive. We’ve got her just like we got you. C’mon. Let’s look for a way to get these chains off.” 

Gladio nodded silently and took your battered body from Noctis, only flinching a little under your weight. The king and Prompto stood up and began to circle the room, looking for anything resembling a key or a lockpick.  

“What can I do, Gladio?” Ignis was still holding a full potion, head cocked, trying to imagine in his mind’s eye what was happening.  

Gladio turned to the adviser. “Open that potion, Iggy.” 

Ignis complied and stepped closer to Gladio, reaching out a hand until he felt your body in the shield’s arms. His fingers ghosted over your form until he felt your chin, then your mouth; he somewhat clumsily slipped his fingers inside to stretch your jaw and proceeded to pour the potion over your lips, letting his cane clatter to the floor.  

Suddenly you felt warm. Too warm, like you were burning from the inside out. But then almost instantly you felt relief. Saliva returned to your mouth and throat, easing the itchy, dry feeling you’d had for who knows how long; your fingers and toes twitched with feeling. You felt the easing of bruised flesh and the mending of open wounds, a familiar feeling you’d felt countless times on the battlefield when you were too close to the fray. Then you felt another bottle being pushed to your lips, and you drank it eagerly; _water, thank the Six..._  

After several minutes adjusting to the healing that was still happening, you opened your eyes. You’d recognize that black wifebeater and pendant anywhere. You looked up at Gladio, who was sitting, now, cradling you like you’d done to Lunafreya on the altar of the Tidemother. He was looking down at you, face twisted in grief and concern. There was a strange sensation of leather on your shoulder; you moved your head slightly to turn outwardly and met the form of Ignis, on his knees, a single hand just above your collarbone in comfort. You slowly brought your own hand up to his gloved one and gripped it. He inhaled sharply.  

“___________,” he breathed. “Are you all right?” 

“I,” you said. You looked back up at Gladio, who had tears in his eyes. “I am now. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Gladio said quietly, all resolve gone out of him. He sniffed hard. “Sorry. It’s just...first seeing Prompto captive, now you....Gods, I hate that fucking hat-wearing hobo bastard.”  

You snorted in quiet laughter. You blinked a few more times and focused on the room. You still felt the heavy drag of iron cuffs on your wrists and the thick collar around your neck, but as everything came into focus, you saw Prompto and Noctis in the distance, searching high and low, turning over furniture and shelves and breaking up crates, hunting for anything to free you.  

You coughed again, and then said as loudly as you could, “Prompto! Noctis!” 

You’d rarely seen either of them run so fast. Prompto was up on you first, tackling you and Gladio both to the ground, body overcome with choking, messy sobs and soft moans of your name as he stroked your hair. Gladio, on his back now, managed to prop himself up on his elbows and brought one hand to Prompto’s back and he rubbed, comforting the gunman as best he could.  

Noctis, too, was knelt next to the pile of bodies. Prompto was somehow straddling both you and Gladio, body shaking as he cried harder than he ever had in his whole life. You were crying too, hands all over him, making sure he was real. Your faces were buried in each others’ necks, crying into each other, finding relief pure skin-to-skin contact.  

After a time, you finally pulled away from him and gripped his flushed face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, and _Gods why is he so beautiful just after he’s cried?_ You blushed, suddenly remembering your undressed state. Well, at least Ignis couldn’t see you. 

“Uh, h-hey guys,” you choked out. “Not sure what Ardyn did with my clothes, so...sorry...” But the embarrassment faded quickly. These were your friends. Noct needed to find the Crystal. Pants were the last priority. You lifted your weak arms, still finding the heavy iron cuffs on them, and you rubbed the collar around your neck. “Um. Managed to find keys? A lockpick? Something?” 

Prompto shook his head. “Not, not yet, but...we will. _________,” he said your name as though he thought he’d ever speak to you again. “What did he to do you?” His voice was a low growl now, possessive and angry.  

You shrugged. “Honestly I don’t remember much after we got separated, Prom. I’ve been chained to that wall for...who knows how long? MTs tortured me a few times with tasers, I think. Ardyn kicked me. He’s drained my power. I can’t...I can’t do what I used to. It’s not gone, but. I’m so much weaker now.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Noctis interjected.  

“Did he...did he _hurt_ you?” Prompto looked down at your body and then glanced upward with pleading eyes.  

It took you a minute to grasp his meaning. “Oh, you mean...I don’t _thi_ _nk_ I’ve been sexually abused, no. But. No food or water, combined with psychological and physical torture, who the fuck knows.” You sighed. You really didn’t think you’d been raped, but then again, it  _was_  Ardyn. “I don’t feel any different down there. I’m not...I mean I haven’t bled, so...I’m probably okay.” 

“We’ll get you to a hospital soon,” said Gladio. “They’ll check you out.”  

That’s right...he did have a little sister, after all. He was in _Protect the Girl_ mode now, and you were more than thankful. You smiled at him. “Thanks, big guy.” 

You looked from Gladio, to Prompto, and finally to Noctis, who was still gazing at you with his big, sad eyes. “Noct,” you said slowly. “I...I have something to tell you. And it won’t be easy, and if you never talk to me again, I’d understand.” 

Prompto’s eyes went wide. Was he not the only one with a secret? 

The king narrowed his eyes. “Nothing you could say would make me respect you less, __________. Not after what you’ve been through. Not after what you’ve done for me.”  

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, well. So. I’m not going to beat around the bush. When I was a kid, like, around ten I think, I met Ardyn. I was playing at the park one day, back wher I grew up, on the playground. And he just came to me out of nowhere and had me show him the magic I was capable of. And then...and then he just, touched me, on the arm, it wasn’t harmful or malicious, but after that...I was able to do so much more. It was like...he  _gave_ me more power. Or his power. Or something. But I...I didn’t remember until now. It was like he wiped my memory. And I don’t know what his endgame was, or is, or if he wanted me to get close to you and then fail you in some way so that he could hurt you more, I don’t know, maybe that’s why I couldn’t save Luna in time? I just...I can’t do what I used to...I can’t serve you anymore, so...so I’d like to officially resign—”  

“Stop talking.”  

Your eyes had been downcast for some time now, spilling out this new revelation, scared of what it would mean for your relationship with Noctis, hell with everyone, and especially with Prompto. He’d been holding your hands this whole time, rubbing the rough callouses of his fingers over your dry, cracked skin. His mouth hung open in a surprised expression, blue eyes wide. You looked up at Prompto, almost crying at his expression, and then finally to Noctis. 

“Luna dying wasn’t your fault,” Noctis said quietly. “You really need to stop fucking blaming yourself for that. Ardyn was the one who killed her, not you. You tried. And that’s what any of us could have...would have done. You kept her safe long enough to return light to me and to summon the ancient kings.” He shrugged. “It’s not your fault Ardyn made you forget. He’s been playing tricks on us this whole fucking trip. He made me push my best friend off the top of a goddamned train. He’s locked me out of my own Armiger.” Noctis held up his hand to showcase the stunning Ring of the Lucii. “All I’ve been able to do to defend myself in this dump is to use this, or sneak around and avoid battle entirely.” He tried to summon a sword to demonstrate. “See?” 

“Fuck, Noctis, I’m so sorry,” you said quietly. It was one thing for you to lose your abilities, but the Chosen King, losing a dozen weapons that could be in his fingers in an instant? An admittedly bigger deal than a combat medic out of spells.  

“You and your family came to Insomnia, came to _me_ , with true intentions. Intentions of doing whatever was necessary to protect the royal family and the crown citizens. I can’t ever thank you enough for that. You knew that, going in, you’d maybe have to die for me. Do you think I ever wanted that? To see my friends die for me? To lose their sight? To see them tortured and beaten in a twisted _game_ just to get under my skin? Fuck that. I’d rather die first, a thousand times over, but. Here I am and here all of you are.” 

Ignis spoke, finally. “None the worse for wear,” he whispered with a hint of playfulness. It broke the tension nicely and you chuckled, just a little.  

Noctis sighed and continued. “The gods gave you this power, initially. We still don’t know why. They’ve been pretty good assholes up to this point, and I still don’t know what the fuck they’re up to with all of this. But Ardyn can only weaken and trick you. He can’t take your power away completely. It’s _yo_ _urs_. You’re so, so smart, ___________, and stronger than you realize. You can be yourself again. You have to. I’ve already asked so much of everyone. Forgive me, but I have to ask one more thing of you. The Crystal is here, and I need your help to get to it. Find your strength, again, ___________, and help me reclaim my kingdom.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his request as you fell into his arms, crying again, stuttering out his name and “Yes, Your Majesty,” over and over.  

He hugged you tightly and looked to Prompto, who smiled.  

“Wow, Noct. Started to sound like a king again for a second, there.” Prompto grinned widely.  

“Well yeah. I hate it when girls cry, man.” He addressed you. “Hey, hey. It’s going to be okay. We’ve all got you.”  

You tried to compose yourself and you lifted off of him. “Okay, okay. I’m fine. But uh. You think ya girl could get out of these stupid chains now?” 

As if on cue, magically, a key fell from the empty air above you and clattered to the floor beside Ignis. He felt around until his fingers found the cold metal object and he held it up.  

“That’s...that’s definitely an Ardyn thing,” said Prompto.  

“I ain’t questioning it now,” you said as you swiped the key from Ignis and freed yourself, rubbing your hands over your wrists and neck after chucking the chains as far as you could throw them, hearing them land with a loud, satisfying _clink._ “Okay. Two things. First...y’all haven’t come across a bathroom anywhere, have you?” You didn’t know what was more embarrassing, the fact that you weren’t wearing pants or the fact that you knew you smelled like your own urine and more after not having any alternative for gods know how long. “I know I’m pretty unsightly right now.” 

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” mumbled Prompto. “It matters that you’re alive. Besides, I’m not much better.”  

“Prompto, I love you.”  

Gladio pursed his lips in thought. “I think maybe we did pass a bathroom of sorts on our way through this stupid maze of a building. Hopefully maybe there’s some abandoned bar of soap somewhere in there.” 

You smiled. “At this point hot water would be heaven, and I’ll take what I can get. Two, uh. Pants?” You said hopefully. “Is...is the Regalia okay? Luggage intact? Or do I have to walk around half-naked forever?” 

“I wouldn’t complain,” whispered Prompto, and you hit him on the arm. “Ow, hey!” 

“Well, the car is pretty dead outside. Not even Cindy could fix her now. But, first things first,” said Noctis. “We need to get out of this room and refresh for a bit. We’re all pretty worn down. There are lots of barracks with beds in them. Let’s get some rest while we can. I have a feeling that Ardyn isn’t going anywhere.”  

The four of you shakily stood, you and Prompto clinging to each other now as you walked, still trailing close to Ignis as Noct and Gladio pushed on a little further ahead to find a place to clean up and rest. After maybe another thirty minutes of walking, Gladio finally let out a relieved “Thank the Six,” and led the rest of you into a wide open barrack with six bunk beds and an attached bathroom with three toilet stalls, two sinks, and three showers. There were military-issue spit-kits in a cabinet on the far end, holding everything from toothpaste to shaving cream to shampoo, and you took five of them and ducked into the last shower stall and stayed there for at least an hour, cleaning every orifice of your body, not even caring that the water was too hot and making your skin red. It was everything you ever wanted in that moment.  

Prompto had let you strip and enter the shower first, alone for a few minutes to clean up, and then he shed his clothes as well and stepped under the cascade of hot water with you.  

You instinctively leaned into his touch as he pressed himself to your back and wrapped his arms around your front, face buried in your neck that’d been almost rubbed raw by the iron collar. “Prom,” you breathed. You grabbed his right wrist—completely bare, now, no longer needing to hide his barcode from you—and brought it up to your mouth, kissing the mark. “Just in case you needed reminding that there is nothing that would make me stop loving you.” 

You felt him shaking, felt a different kind of heat on your neck now, the salty tears stinging tender neck skin just barely, but you’d die before you’d move away. Prompto came back down to Eos, finally. You turned around and went to empty the entire travel-size shampoo bottle on your head, but Prompto said, “Let me,” and you let him, let him massage the scentless, practical cleanser into your scalp, ridding you of days of blood, dust, dirt, and gods know what else. He grabbed a rough washcloth, then—MTs didn’t need comfort, only cheap efficiency—and lathered it with the small bar of soap, and ran it over you slowly, kissing each bruise, each scar, each stretch mark, cleaning you with military precision, scrubbing firmly. Your eyes closed as you let him work his way down your body, alternating rough scrubbing with gentle kissing, until you felt him grab your plush waist and whisper, “Turn around.”  

You turned, letting him continue on your back, the backs of your arms and legs, over your ass and between it, and it wasn’t gross or weird, because he was being so careful and gentle, as if slowly trying to ease out the filth and torture of the past several days. You heard the rag finally fall to the tile floor with a _splat_ and then felt his fingers return to you again, again between your cheeks, and further forward to hook a finger between your folds.  

Realistically, you’d known it must’ve only been days since you last touched each other, but a heated quickie in a cave while Aranea was asleep (or, hopefully, she’d been asleep), hadn’t satiated your need for gentle touches, for feeling every nerve of your body catch on fire under Prompto’s practiced ministrations. You leaned forward and braced yourself on the shower wall, reveling in the hot water still pushing shampoo from your scalp and down your back. You began to roll your hips slightly, head hung low, lips choking out soft sobs as your lover pushed another finger into your depths.  

“Prompto...!” you said as you clenched and contracted around him, legs shaky now, familiar heat coiling in your gut, your natural juices starting to drip down your legs along with hot water and soap.  

You could hear him moan and gasp quietly, and you knew without looking that he was touching himself with his other hand. You let the teasing continue for a few more minutes until you’d had enough. You brought one hand down to the hand inside of you and pulled it out, holding it as you turned to face him. Prompto was in fact on his knees, cock hard in hand, head thrown back and eyes just now blinking open at the interruption. His face, also marred by fresh cuts and bruises, was flushed with desire, freckles almost invisible under the red.  

“We...we don’t have to...I’m just...I missed you so much...I thought I’d never see you again...” He gritted his teeth and slowed his hand.  

You shook your head. “I need you, Prompto. I always need you.” Shower sex was awkward but you’d done it before, and time nor comfort had been on your side as of late, and you were learning to work with what the universe gave you. You quickly scrubbed over yourself with bare hands, pooling water between your legs and making sure all the shampoo was gone from your scalp. “How...how do you want me?” 

Prompto ran a hand through his flat, wet hair and groaned, as if he still couldn’t believe that he still got to enjoy such pleasure, especially with you. Gods, how he got to be so wrecked from your words, just touching you...it was too much and not enough.  

“Come here,” he said, voice low with desire.  

You swallowed hard and sank down to the floor. Prompto came off his haunches and sat directly on the tile; you moved to straddle his waist, pushing your stomach up against his hard length. He wasted no time crushing his lips to yours, tongue flicking against sore and bruised lips as you opened up for him and kissed him back as deep as you could go. Somewhere, in the midst of the kissing, Prompto lifted you with just one arm— _holy fuck he was strong—_ and brought you right down on his cock, bottoming out instantly, breaking the kiss to throw his head back in pleasure again, not even trying to hide the noises he made as he thrust up inside of you.  

You leaned forward and locked your arms around his neck, nails digging in for purchase along his scarred back, teeth finding that sensitive pressure point between his neck and shoulder and your bit down, hard, as Prompto slammed into you frantically. His rhythm was faltering within minutes; he was getting close, you knew. Grinning to yourself, you brought your lips close to his ear and nibbled on his lobe before whispering, “You’re so good to me, Prompto, my good, perfect boy, come for me...” 

That was it, that did it. Prompto came with a loud whine of your name, and you finished soon after, rolling your hips to finish milking the both of you out of your release.  

 

You stayed like that until the water was, finally, starting to get less than scalding hot. You stood up on shaky legs and helped Prompto up, returning the favor of washing his hair and body as he’d done for you, kissing every freckle you could make out, biting gently at his hips and running your tongue against his own faded stretch marks with long, lazy strokes. You giggled as his cock twitched, and you ran your tongue along that too, but stood up before he could get friction and catch a second wind.  

“Okay, not fair,” he breathed as you threw the washrag over the curtain rod and scrubbed his hair a little more, making sure the shampoo was gone.  

You giggled. “Ah, you like it.” 

He laughed, still breathless. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I do.” He turned and switched the nozzle off. “I’ll go out first and find towels. And, uh. Hopefully some clothes of some sort. I really don’t want to wear what I was wearing before.” 

You nodded and stepped to the curtain after he left the stall, gingerly poking your head out, hoping you wouldn’t see anything inappropriate (okay, that was _mostly_ true), other than Prompto’s pale, bare ass walking to the various linen closets. You watched with amusement as he started singing about nudity, bathing, and towels, interrupting himself to “Hooray!” with glee as he pulled out three white towels from the bottom of a supply cabinet. You heard the other guys’ voices, then, and ducked your head back in the shower.  

Prom appeared a minute later, his own towel tied tightly against his hips; you took the first one and wrapped it around your head in the standard issue “girly towel turban,” as Prompto so affectionately called it; and, surprisingly, the towel was just long enough to wrap around you and tuck into a fold under your armpit.  

“Wow,” you breathed. “Shoutout to the Niffs for having bath sheets instead of plain ol’ towels.” You scratched at your stomach. “They could’ve made these with a higher thread count, though.” 

The two of you entered the bedroom and immediately flopped together on one of the bunks, turning sideways to hug each other, nose to nose. You kissed Prompto one last time before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion and sleep.  

 

You woke up some indeterminate time later, still wrapped in towels and still on the bed. You felt infinitely better; well, except for the growling in your stomach. Maybe there were military rations nearby. You sat, up, blinking against the ugly fluorescent light that flooded the room. Behind you, you heard the door slide open, and all four of your companions walked in. 

Everyone looked like they had rested and showered as well, with fresh clothes and styled hair and determined faces. You smiled softly as Prompto approached your bunk and sat. “Hey,” you said. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s great. Really great.” He kissed you on the lips and unwrapped the towel from your hair, letting it fall to the bed. “Did you rest well?” he stroked his fingers through your short, damp, tangled locks.  

“Yeah, I feel a lot better.” A pitiful whine erupted from your gut. “Uh. Except that.” 

Prompto laughed. “Don’t worry. We found a kitchen with some food. We brought it back for you.” He looked over to Iggy, who slowly felt his way over to the bed and sat on the opposite end, hot bags of military-grade food in hand.  

“I’m afraid it’s a far cry from, say, sea bass sauté. However, it's basic protein and carbs, and you need all the strength you can get.” Ignis set the packs of food on the bed.  

You turned and embraced Ignis from behind, ignoring his sudden jump at the unexpected contact. “Thank you, Ignis,” you whispered into the folds of his jacket.  

Ignis crossed one hand across his chest and rested it atop your own hands, which were clasped loosely around his neck. “You’re quite welcome, darling.” He brought one of your hands up and kissed it.  

You kissed his cheek and sat back down, turning back around to face Prompto and eat whatever grub the boys had managed to round up. As you ate, Noctis came over and sat beside Ignis.  

“Sorry we left you,” he said sheepishly. “We figured you really needed to sleep. Oh! And we turned off the machine that was stopping my powers.” The Armiger’s light flashed into view and Noctis held out a pile of clothes to you, which Prompto took and set down as you continued to chow down on the rations.  

“How...how did you get my clothes?” You said after swallowing quickly.  

Ignis cocked his head and smirked. “Ah, I believe that was my doing. I luckily had the foresight to slip a few of our things into the Armiger while we were all still on the train to Gralea, together. I do hope you’ll forgive whatever style is there; I had Gladio help me.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The shield came over and leaned against the bunk bed, eyes crinkling.  

“Your fashion sense is shit, Gladdy. You’d be doomed if it weren’t for Crownsguard-issued uniforms,” you said, laughing as you finished your meal. Gladio made an incredulous noise as Prompto, Ignis, and Noctis all burst out laughing. Standing, you scooped up your clothes and headed for the bathroom. “Be back in a minute.” You slipped into one of the toilet stalls and relieved yourself, then stood, throwing the towel over the stall door and picking up the clothes from the back of the toilet where you’d left them.  

Ignis, Six bless him, really was a woman’s best friend. He’d had the incredible foresight to pack you both a bra and underwear—you had the feeling that Noct would actually forget about bras altogether, and if the extra clothes detail had been left to Prom and Gladio, they’d leave out the bra on purpose. You slipped your undergarments on, and unfolded the next article, and... “Oh, fuck yeah!” Ignis was your god now—he'd packed you your favorite pair of black soft cotton leggings. You pulled them on, along with the basic military woolen socks you usually wore, and the thin, long-sleeved black sweater. Ignis had also packed your trusted leather jacket, which had the same patches as Prompto’s ubiquitous denim vest (you may or may not have stolen his vest one day after Crownsguard training and had a custom jacket akin to the vest made for yourself; you’d put it back in his locker the next day and to this moment, he still never figured out why his vest had gone missing for twenty-four hours). You slipped it on, already feeling warmer and better in the weight and feel of your own clothes. Your Crownsguard combat boots were the last of the pile, and you buckled them up, finally feeling like yourself again.  

As you emerged from the bathroom, you saw Noctis accessing the Armiger, with the other three men standing around him. Prompto’s eyes were going wide and he was starting to tear up, freckles growing dark under beet-red cheeks. He noticed you and his mouth dropped open, casuing Noct and Gladio to glance back in your direction.  

Noctis waved you over. “___________, c’mere.” 

You went up to the group, sidling up to Prompto and closing your small, chubby hand around his long, thin fingers. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “What’s up, Noct? We ready to go get your Crystal?” 

Noctis smiled, a faint blush rising to his face. “Uh yeah, totally. But first. I thought you might want to, y’know. Get married first.” He opened his hand and the rings he’d fastened for you and Prompto were in his palm, shining red and black as the day he’d presented them to you on the train to Gralea.  

Your eyes went wide and you felt your face get hot. “Uh. Here? Right...right now? I’m not even wearing a dress! I’m not even wearing _white!_ ” 

Gladio hummed. “You’re wearing the colors of the royal family, how much more appropriate could you get, dollface?” 

You looked at Prompto, whose gaze had turned from flustered shock to one of overwhelming love. He took the woman’s ring from Noct’s hand and bent down on one knee. “___________,” he said, breathing your name like a prayer, like it was the only word he wanted to say for the rest of eternity. “Will you marry me?” Prompto choked out the words before a cry caught in his throat and tears began to stream liberally down his cheeks. “I’m, I’m sorry, I just...saying it...I never thought I’d say those words...” 

You somehow managed not to cry as you smiled sweetly at him. “Prompto, I want nothing else in the world except to be your wife.” 

Prompto nodded, wiping the tears from his face with his forearm as his free hand came up to slip the ring on your left ring finger.  

You stiffened a little, waiting for the embarrassment of not being able to wear it—because after all, it had been made for lithe, beautiful Lady Lunafreya, not for thick fingers like yours—but it fit, it fit like a dream, it glided over your knuckle perfectly and settled where appendage met hand. You barked out a surprised noise and your eyes shot to Noctis.  

“Noct...but how! How does it fit me?” 

The king smirked. “Told you that we could get it fixed at any arms dealer. We passed one just before arriving here, and he resized it for me. The extra titanium is from a rare kind of specialty bullet. He melted it down and made the ring bigger. Thank Ignis for the guess on ring size.” 

A bullet. A bullet from a gun, the chosen weapon of your love, now embedded in the ring given to you by your dear friend, the King of Lucis. You looked back at Prompto, who was smiling at you. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the ring he’d just placed there. You took the men’s ring from Noct and made Prompto stand; with shaky fingers, you slipped the ring on his left ring finger. “Prompto,” you said softly. “I love you so much. I know I’m not much to look at, and I’m not good at fighting, but...” You looked down. “I’m yours. For however long you’ll have me.” 

“Ah, what...! I’ll, I’ll always want you, __________!” Prompto flailed. He pulled you into a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that you responded to in fervor.  

A cleared throat from Gladio brought the both of you out from yourselves and back to reality. “Are you two going to actually get married or what?” 

Noctis chuckled. “Shortest engagement ever.”  

“What...oh, yeah,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Uh. Here. Noct, you stand there--” you pointed to the doorway. “And Prom, you stand on the left, right in front of Noct. Gladio, you stand behind Prompto.” The three men took their positions. After you surveyed them and were satisfied, you hooked your arm under Ignis’ arm and walked away from the mock altar about ten feet, before turning. “Iggy,” you said quietly, gripping his hand. “Will you walk me down the aisle?” 

Ignis sharply inhaled and then coughed, pulling on his collar as his face went red. Beneath his glasses, you watched a few tears roll down his cheeks. “It would be my honor,” Ignis breathed.  

“I love you, Ignis,” you said, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me. You’ve always believed in me. You’ve always hyped me up. You told me I was beautiful before anyone else did. I only wish...I only wish I could give you the support that you’ve given me.” 

“Darling,” Ignis turned his face in your direction, lips curling into a genuine smile. “It has been the absolute pleasure of my life to welcome you into Noct’s inner circle. The warmth and strength that you’ve brought to this team has been invaluable, and so uniquely _you_. The four of us are a hundred times better off for having been your friend.” Ignis bent down and felt until his hands were on your chin; he turned your face and kissed your cheek lightly. “I only wish I could see you now. I’m sure you make a radiant blushing bride.” 

“Ah, well, you know me. Though I think Prompto’s blushing just as much over there.” 

“We shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.” 

Ignis walked you up to Prompto, and Gladio took him by the hand and stood with him. 

“Uh, I don’t really know how to do this,” Noctis was saying as you and Prompto held both of each others’ hands out in front of you. “You already have the rings on, so...I guess, do you have any vows?” 

Prompto cleared his throat. “Well, uh. Well. _________.” He brought his violet-blue crystal eyes to meet yours, doing everything in his power to keep from crying again. “You know who I am, where I’ve come from. And yet you’ve decided to continue to love me anyway. There’s no way I could ever match your love, but I promise to try to, every day. I promise to protect you, to keep you safe. I promise to love you forever, no matter what life brings us.” He sniffed.  

“Prompto. I’ve loved you so much for so long, and my love for you continues to grow stronger every day. I promise to be the loving, caring wife you’ve always needed. I promise never to leave you. I promise myself, all of myself, to you, forever and always.” 

Prompto choked out a sob but bit his lip to hold the rest back as he looked at his best friend.  

Noctis clapped him on the shoulder. “Deep breaths, buddy.” He looked at you, then back to Prompto, who was trying his best not to hyperventilate. “Okay, um. By the powers invested in me, as the Chosen King of Lucis...I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, pronounce you husband and wife. You may now...kiss. Or whatever.” 

Prompto squeaked but before he could make a move, you flung yourself at him and kissed him, laughing as you felt him smiling against your lips.  

And with your friends as witness, in the dead center of the floating fortress Zegnautus Keep, in the middle of the impending end of the world, you became Mrs. Prompto Argentum.  


	18. Scribbled Out the Truth with Their Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahamut is a dick
> 
> _________
> 
> Chapter title inspired by Paramore (I realized that I probably needed to draw out a little more inspiration from the song "crushcrushcrush" other than just the work name, so uh, here you go)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

“Fuck, shit...!” You hopped backwards as you lit  _another_ daemon on fire, hopping backwards to avoid friendly fire on yourself. With Emperor Aldercapt and Ravus Nox Fleuret dead, nothing was holding back the swarms of daemons that now threatened to overrun your party. The monsters kept coming, no end in sight, the stench of rotting flesh and the crackling decay of the scourge dripping from the creatures like ink from a quill; they were in all sizes and shapes—imps, giants, twisted black nightmares that you didn’t even have a name for. With the last of your elemental flasks worn out, it was time to do the old instinctual hack n’ slash you’d become so familiar with—and kind of good at, actually—when you’d infiltrated the Magitek research lab. If the map Prompto had found was correct, then the five of you were right outside the throne room, with the Lucian Crystal hidden somewhere inside. Getting through the horde of mindless, half-dead monsters, however, was proving to be almost impossible.  

You heard Noctis give a particularly loud grunt and then suddenly, the daemons evaporated in a crimson flash, and you saw Noct fall to his knees, with Gladio on him in an instant, as the Ring’s effects settled. The space was only clear for an instant as more monsters materialized out of nowhere, snarling and screaming and gnashing their teeth. You readied your stance with the large golden dagger, gritting and trying not to feel the overwhelming fatigue in your body. You felt a lithe hardness against your back, and Prompto was there, switching his Crownsguard revolver for his Calamity from the Armiger. The both of you leaned back against each other.  

“You ready, ___________?” he breathed.  

“Well, not really, but we do what we have to.” You gulped. You were scared, so, so scared, but the fear seemed to fall away in the face of divine duty. “We have to clear a path for Noctis.” And then, suddenly, as the first goblin locked its eyes on you and lunged, a lightbulb clicked. Slashing the daemon’s neck, wincing as black blood splattered your face, you turned to your husband, who was pumping bullets into the fray. “Prompto! This isn’t working. Noct is just gonna have to make a run for it.”  

“Wait, _________!” he tried, but yelped as something twisted around his ankle and pulled him to the floor.  

You were already halfway to where Noct, Gladio, and Ignis stood in their altered battle formation, Ignis lobbing bottled fire at the surge of daemons while Noct and Gladio took up the bulk of the fighting, swords clashing and ripping flesh in their methodical, trained way. You barely had time to duck under Gladio’s weapon when you slugged him on the shoulder. “Hey Gladio!” 

“What!” he shouted back as he swung again, three creatures sizzling into a pile of black goop.  

“This isn’t working!” 

“Well, what are we supposed to do!” The shield grunted back as he swung into the horde again.  

“Noctis should just make a run for it while we stave off the daemons! Shit!” A creature was on your back, suddenly, and you knelt as you fought to return the attack.  

The king himself had warp-striked near you, then, and caught an imp clean across the neck with his father’s sword. “What was that?” 

You plunged your dagger into the chest of the vicious something and heaved it to the side, standing. “Noct, c’mon. You’re just gonna have to make a break for it. Leave the rest to us. When you find the Crystal, these things will go away. Uh. Hopefully. Maybe.” 

Noctis raised an eyebrow. “Hm. I was just thinking the same thing. I just hope it’ll work.” 

You nodded. “Dude. You have to. You said it yourself. Reclaim your kingdom. C’mon, that’s your birthright in there—” you pointed to the end of the long hall, the large double doors crested with Niflheim’s logo. “We’re your guards. Let us help you. Let’s go.” 

Noctis grunted but nodded, clapping you on the shoulder as he turned to Gladio and steeled his gaze. “I’m going to run for it. You guys watch my back.” 

“As always, Highness,” Gladio said, swinging again the next daemon who launched itself at him.  

“I’ll run with you to the door,” you said, panting from the fighting, breath finally catching up to you in the momentary reprieve. “Take my hand, I’ll try to heal you the best I can along the way.” 

Noctis interlaced his long, smooth fingers in your left hand, squeezing as he felt the ring that had joined you and Prompto as man and wife barely an hour earlier. The two of you bolted through the frenzy of monsters, you and Noctis slashing to your sides wildly as the creatures registered new, swifter movement. You passed Prompto, who was closest to the door, and he turned as he hit another daemon between the eyes.  

“Prom!” you shouted. “Y’all cover for us! We’re making a run for it! I’ll be back once we find the Crystal!” 

Prompto nodded and caused another monster to fall, this one nearly nipping at Noct’s heels. “Be safe! Noct! Take care of my wife!” 

In spite of everything, Noct smirked as he looked back at his best friend. “‘Course I will, because who’s gonna take care of you if I don’t?” 

Prompto giggle-snorted and turned back to shooting.  

 

Only a few daemons had dared followed you and Noctis to the doors and beyond, and they were easy kills; once the two of you were on the other side of the doors, no danger was there to greet you. The throne room was dark, wide-open and empty, with a crown and royal robes draped over the ill-fated throne. There were several sealed doors on either side of the imperial chamber, and the whole place crackled with magic.  

You knew that pull, that feel. You’d felt so empty without it while imprisoned. The spark, the overwhelming  _feel_ of the Astrals’ power you’d had coursing through your veins for a solid decade now. Noctis studied the room for just a few seconds before nodding in the direction of a far-left door.  

“It’s in there. Can you feel it?” 

“Yeah, I...I can.” You let go of his hand, feeling ultimately drained of your power, but having poured as much restoring spirit into your king as you could muster.  

Noctis turned at the loss of contact and grabbed your hand again. “Please,” he said, voice cracking under the sudden weight of the world. “Don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not leaving you, Noctis.” You gripped his hand tightly. “You’re my king.” 

Side by side, you and Noctis approached the door. There was a scanner and a key pad on the side. Noctis frowned and waved his hand over it, letting the magic of his Ring seep into the mechanical lock. It broke and sparks flew out of the small machine instantly, the sealed door now open. You and Noctis stepped inside. 

And there it was. The Crystal. Awe-inspiring, terrifying, glowing blue and pink and purple. It was suspended by chains at the end of a long platform, the rest of the room opening up into a gaping maw going impossibly down, down, down to the floating fortress’s depths. You gulped and tried not to look into the abyss as the two of you approached it.  

Again, you let go of Noct’s hand, stopping a little way behind him. He gulped and stepped right up to the giant stone, tentatively reaching out to touch the visible aura that was surrounding it.  

And then.  

You blinked, once, twice.  

And then Noctis’ hand was being...sucked inside. Closer, closer...half his arm was in now. He cried out loudly as he struggled away from the supernatural pull.  

“Noctis!” you screamed as you closed the gap and wrapped both of your hands on his one free arm, trying to tug him free.  

“Well, well, well.”  

And then suddenly,  _that_ voice,  _that_ man, came around from the side of the Crystal and into view.  

“Ardyn!” you hissed, hoping that the anger in your eyes would somehow be enough to scare him away.  

“Ah yes, the wanna-be Crownsguard. The little novelty item the king has strung along on this journey just for the hell of it,” Ardyn teased, voice calm and mocking as always.  

“Shut up, shut up!” you roared. “I am Noct’s Crownsguard! And you’re gonna pay for everything you’ve done to him!” You let one hand fall to your sheathed dagger, the other one still gripping Noct’s one free arm with all your shaking strength.  

Ardyn cackled as you withdrew your weapon and pointed it at him. “I would like to see you try. Is that all you have left? A simple dagger that probably couldn’t even cut a stick of butter, for all your grace and poise. Do you really think you intimidate me? You’re still just the shy, fat girl from Leide, aren’t you, deep down? Scared of losing friends, scared of losing power, scared of...you’re bloody scared of  _everything_ ,” Ardyn hissed, stepping closer. He reached out one hand, a hand that was crawling black with the same scourge you’d witnessed dripping from the daemons. “You’re nothing, girl. Your friends just don’t want to say it, you’re nothing but a burden. You can’t fight properly, and you can’t even seem to find you elemental powers anymore. What are you even good for?” 

You gasped as Ardyn’s hand grasped around your throat, and you almost dropped the dagger. Almost.  

“___________!” Noctis was screaming your name even as he was being pulled into the Crystal, even as you were struggling to keep your free hand on his arm, pulling in the opposite direction.  

And then, suddenly, you laughed. It was hard, with that daemonic hand around your throat, Ardyn’s face half-twisted into black Starscourge as he bared his teeth at you, but laugh you did, raspy, guttural sounds interrupting the tension of Ardyn and Noctis and the Crystal.  

“What am I good for?” You spat his question back at him. It was the question you’d been asking yourself your whole life. What had you been good for? A fat, nerdy girl who’d never really fit in anywhere, who only barely fit in in Insomnia, the Crownsguard, in Noct’s inner circle...but no. You  _did_ fit, you realized. You squeezed your eyes shut as the whirlwind past weeks of the world turning upside down replayed in your mind. “I am good for love,” you hissed at Ardyn, feeling the weight of the wedding ring pressing into the hard muscle of Noct’s right arm. “I am good for friendship.” You thought back all the way to your high school days, the tentative first years of establishing yourself into Noct’s life, into Prompto’s life—and although you didn’t know it at the time, into his heart. You thought about Ignis’ constant support of you, the friendly date he’d taken you on in Altissia, the witty banter you’d bounced back and forth with Gladio while on the road.  

Ardyn scoffed as he closed his hand tighter around your throat. You were on the verge of really choking, now, hand still shakily gripping your dagger. “Love and friendship, please. Don’t make me laugh.” 

“You only laugh at those things because you don’t understand them! You don’t have love or friends, and I feel sorry for you,” you spat back in defiance, and mustered your strength and lunged forward, plunging the dagger deep into Ardyn’s sternum.  

You heard the cracking of a bone as the daemonic man stumbled backwards and laughed heartily. “I do admire your efforts to protect your king,” Ardyn said as he regained his footing. “But come, all of this talk is getting us nowhere. It has occurred to me that I actually never properly introduced myself.” Ardyn took his hat off and gave a sweeping bow, dagger still poking out from him like a cactuar needle. “My name, my  _real_ name, is Ardyn Lucis Caelum.” 

Noctis’ eyes widened but he said nothing, only glanced to you as the two of you continued to grip each other and struggle against the pull of the Crystal.  

“Once, two thousand years ago,  _I_ was supposed to be the Astrals' first choice for king, the Founder King of Lucis, until my plotting brother killed the first Oracle and stole my birthright from me.” Ardyn  paced back and forth. “I, too, was gifted with healing once. When the Starscourge first showed its signs on Eos, I alone was the savior of men. I took the disease into myself, I gave women back their husbands, their children. I gave men back their mothers and daughters and lovers. And what thanks do I get?” He roared. “Nothing! My love, dead! My brother, the betrayer, taking my birthright,  _my_ title as king! Erased from history, rendered immortal by the very scourge I was protecting innocent lives from. Chained on Angelguard as  _Adagium_ , the monster, forced into immortality and darkness, forever suspended in pain at the will of the gods.” Ardyn looked at you and Noctis, smirking.  

“And now you see me here,” he continued. “But it would do me no good to kill you now, Noct. You truly are the Chosen, just look at how much the Crystal  _wants_ you. No...it would do me no good to kill you now, Noctis. I need you at your best and strongest for when we meet again.” 

Noct made a face at Ardyn that was all pure twisted rage, his handsome dark features scowling and baring teeth as he spit at his enemy’s boots.  

Ardyn chuckled and gripped Noct’s jaw firmly with his hand.  

“Don’t you touch him!” You roared, lunging, throwing all your weight forward.  

Ardyn caught your throat again and squeezed. Now the two of you—Noctis half in the Crystal, your larger body hanging almost helplessly from the king’s free side—were suspended in the air by the sheer force of Ardyn’s strength. He laughed haughtily even as he released the two of you and  _pushed,_ forcing both you and Noctis into the Crystal even as you heard the scuffle of boots and muffled shouts from the other end of the high platform, the blurry image of a screaming Prompto careening forward with gun in hand your last vision of the outside world before you closed your eyes and fell into darkness.  

* 

You opened your eyes and the light was blinding. You felt the sharp taste of magic, of the  _Astrals_ , all around you, permeating your entire being. You called out for Noctis, for Prompto, for anyone who would answer. Swimming in nothingness, your shouts fell short within the vast expanse of the void. Vision began to return slowly, and there you saw  _him, Bahamut_ ,  _the Draconian_ , the sword-winged god... holding Noctis in his hand. 

You called out to Noct, stretched out your hand, tried to swim—fly, float, whatever—to where he was, to Bahamut, and you heard deep booming revelations of prophecy in that ancient, garbled language. The language no one was supposed to understand or hear or know except for the Oracle and the Lucis Caelums. Then how did you know it?  

 _While I’ve got the god’s attention, I might as well ask him_ , you thought, even as you heard the Astral’s words.  

 **_“A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own. The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the usurper and usher in dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all. Now enter into reflection that the Light of Providence shine within.”_ ** 

 

And you saw Noctis sink to his knees and you wanted to cry, but all the tears had already been stolen from you. The usurper...if Ardyn was to be believed, well, the usurper was probably Ardyn himself. Enter into reflection...  _and just how long was that going to take_ , you wondered? That you, that Noct, Ignis, Gladio, Prompto ...that you all had come all this way for this, to let the gods tell Noctis that he had to  _die_.  

You screamed again, praying that your screams would reach the god.  _It’s not fair, it was never fair, how could you, are we just pawns..._ Noctis turned and you saw him reach out a hand for you, but Bahamut beat him to it and within a millisecond you were kneeling in the god’s other hand.  

“Child of common blood,” Bahamut spoke. “Why are you in this realm?” 

The god brought his hands together and Noctis was on you, instantly, sinking down to his knees with you. You felt his familiar warmth around you, the lean sharp cut of his muscle as you clutched his jacket and heaved dry sobs, trying to cry tears that wouldn’t come.  

“Noctis,” you groaned. “It’s not...it’s not fair...” 

Noct stroked your hair and held you tight—his medic, his Crownsguard, his friend. “It’s going to be all right. The gods know what they’re doing,” he said quietly. “It’s for...it’s for the good of the people, for all of Eos. I was...I’m the Chosen. It’s prophecy.” 

“Fuck prophecy!” You sat up and shot daggers at him with your heated gaze. “It’s not fair. You’ve been raised like a lamb to the slaughter.” You turned and looked up at Bahamut, who was waiting patiently for you to answer his question. “You!” You pointed a callused finger at the god. “Is this what you divine beings enjoy doing? Using humans as your pawns to do your dirty work? How is that even right, deciding someone’s destiny before they’re even born?” 

“Child of common blood,” Bahamut spoke again, a little softer. “Fate cannot be changed. It is the only way to end the darkness.” 

You bit your tongue even as you let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a scream and a moan. You stood on shaky legs. Then, gathering your senses, “Take me! You want a sacrifice, take me! I’ll die for Eos. Just, please!” You were crying now, how the hot tears came, free-flowing and easy. “He’s my friend, my...you have got to let him  _live_!” 

Bahamut made a sound, almost like a laugh if Noct paid attention enough, as Noctis stood up and grabbed your hand again, grateful for its familiar weight and comfort. He felt a few tears roll down his own face, stunned as you pleaded for his very life. “Hey, __________, you don’t...its okay.” 

“It’s not okay, Noctis!” You sobbed, and then, turning back to the god, “Why did you all give me powers like Noctis? What exactly was I supposed to do with them? And what about Ardyn, huh? Why is he able to diminish them? Why did he come to me, erase my memory of him? Was I just a pawn for him all along? Well it failed. I’ve never betrayed Noctis, or the country of Lucis. And I never will. So whatever you had planned for me, you can just shove it. I’m not leaving him.” 

Bahamut made another noise, something akin to a sigh. “Child of common blood,” he said a third time. “A second vessel was required to act in place of the Chosen King in his absence. When it is time for his Reflection. And his time of Reflection is now.” 

“Oh yeah? And what I am supposed to do out there, without him? Where will you all be? Waiting patiently in the sky while this 'darkness,' or whatever, falls... while daemons eat the world, while Ardyn walks around freely until you decide to let Noctis come back, only to have me watch him die? Fuck you. Fuck this, fuck the Prophecy.” 

“Sacrilege,” boomed the Draconian.  

“Fine.  _Fine._ Call me sacrilegious, see if I care. I am so fucking angry, I don’t even give a shit if I have access to the king’s magic ever again. I never asked for it, I never asked for  _any_ of this. You should’ve just let live out my fucking life in the south of Leide, I was perfectly happy being  _common_.” You huffed and wrenched your grip away from Noct and folded your arms, fully prepared to be struck down at talking back to an Astral but you were past the point of no return now.  

“Humans are creatures of emotion,” Bahamut boomed. “And Ifrit sought to do away with all of humanity.” 

“You don’t have to explain...I know the lore of the Astrals,” you huffed. “Just tell me. Why me. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do. Please. I need answers. My whole life I’ve had this power, I’ve dedicated myself to serving Noctis in the only ways I know how. Please, please help me.” You hung your head.  

“The goddess Shiva wanted a human of common birth, of no prior connection to the gods. A child pure of heart, meek in spirit.” 

“And out of all the good children in Lucis, you chose me. Why?” 

“That is a question only the Glacian can answer.” 

You rolled your eyes but looked at Noct, who’d been staring at you this whole time, barely holding back laughter as you’d cursed out a god and railed against fate. “Okay, so. The magic...I can barely feel it anymore. I think Ardyn’s been draining it from me for weeks now. Are you gonna restore my strength or what?” 

“The gods’ magic has never left you, Child of common blood. It is up to you to find the spring within yourself and let it gush forth.” 

“Fuck, you sound like Ignis.” 

Noctis actually laughed out loud at that. He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “If someone had told me four years ago that I’d be standing here witnessing you arguing with a god, I’d have jailed them for lying to royalty. Fuck, you’ve grown some pretty big balls, __________. Uh, I mean. For a girl.” 

“Noctis, I’m fucking pissed. I’m still...don’t get me wrong, my anxiety is in complete overload right now. But this, this prophecy...I can’t. I can’t, it’s not fair, it’s...I don’t want you to  _die_ , Noctis. Gods,” you breathed.  

“I’ll admit that it’s pretty fucked up. But I mean. One life traded for all of Eos. Seems fair to me.” He shrugged sadly. “Bahamut’s right. Lots of people have died for me already, given up their autonomy for service to me and Lucis. You, Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, just to name a few. If I rebel and give up, everyone’s sacrifices will have been for nothing. Luna’s death would have been for nothing.” 

 _That_ stung, and deep down, you knew he was right, knew Bahamut was right. Fate couldn’t be changed and suddenly, you felt hollow and numb all at once, and the magic of the Astrals threatened to tear you apart. “Noct,” you said, strained. “Is this why you sleep all the time? So you can bear all this...all this rage? All the despair? No wonder you’re so damn lethargic.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed and terrified. “Our bodies can’t take this.” It was very hard to breathe.  

“That’s how the magic manifested in you,” Noctis suddenly realized. “Depression, anxiety. All your mental illnesses, __________.” He sighed. “And for me, yeah. It’s why I nap all the time. Because if I’m asleep, I don’t have to feel. I don’t have to feel anything.” He cupped your cheek with his gloved hand. 

You leaned into the gesture. “I can’t...I can’t do this, Noctis. Not without you,” you breathed, closing your eyes. 

“Sure you can. Bahamut said it himself, you’re the gods’ vessel in my absence. Besides, Prompto, more than anyone, needs you back out there.” 

“But how long? How long are you going to be gone? Where will you go?” 

“The Chosen King will enter his period of Reflection in the realm of the Crystal,” boomed Bahamut. “And the Child of common blood will ensure the safety of the world in its darkness until it is time.” 

You were crying again, clutching at your king, your friend. “Noctis,” you cried. 

“I’m not dead yet, ____________. Promise me. Promise me that you’ll wait for me. All of you out there. I will come back. And I will win, with all of you by my side.” 

“Always,” you said quietly as Noctis withdrew his hand from you. “It’s always been...my life has always been yours. I swore an oath, as your Crownsguard.” You knelt in fealty and bowed, right arm across your chest and left arm behind your back. “I swear it, Noctis. I will do as the gods bid if it is of any use to you.” 

“I know you will. And you’ll be great, because you already are.” The king helped you to your feet. “The magic is in you. I can feel it. Ardyn didn’t take it away. You have to believe in yourself. Believe in me.” 

“I do believe in you, Noctis.” 

“You’re beautiful and strong, ___________. You  _can_ do this.” Noctis lowered his head to kiss the top of your hair. “Now. I have to go...reflect, and stuff.” 

You chuckled, but watched as he stepped to Bahamut’s other hand, and his giant hands were separating you now, like two continents drifting away from each other, and you couldn’t help but reach out long and pleading, crying out his name again as Bahamut dropped him into nothingness. You watched as Noctis clutched his knees and sank into the void of the Crystal, even as the god was wrapping you in his fist and flinging you toward an imaginary entrance.  

* 

You came flying out of the Crystal, landing roughly on the high platform with a loud  _thunk_. Zegnautus Keep. You were back in the real world, mind still reeling with the revelations of Bahamut. You cursed and slowly picked yourself up, registering movement and voices behind you.  

“Is that...is it really her?” Tentative steps. 

 _Gladio._  

“Of course it is!” Clunky boots approaching fast. 

 _Prompto_ _._  

“Astrals, how long has it been?” Stirring, consistent tapping of a cane.  

 _Ignis._  

You stood and turned just as your husband plowed into you, nearly knocking you back over with the force of his running hug.  

“You’re back, you’re back....” Prompto was full-on sobbing into your neck as he gripped you tight, too tight, hands wandering along your back, knotting in your hair, trying to feel all of you at once. 

You sighed into him and let the weight of the Crystal and Bahamut and Prophecy fall away in the crushing grip of your lover. Tears were coming now, and you realized that, like back in the Niflheim outlands, how much you hated to be without him. 

Gladio came up behind him and caught your eye, his own amber gaze wide and disbelieving, as though you were a ghost. Ignis felt his way over, and put a hand on Gladio’s shoulder.  

“What’s going on?” Tenebraen voice ever calm. 

“I,” you rasped. “The Crystal. Noct...Noct is in there. With Bahamut.” 

“The Draconian,” Ignis breathed.  

“Well, when is he going to come flying out too? It’s been weeks,” Gladio huffed.  

Wait. “Weeks? Wait, wait.” You kissed into the crook of Prompto’s neck. “Prompto,” you said. “Prom, look at me.” 

The blond reluctantly lifted, face flushed red with tears, eyes sunken in, dark circles around those gorgeous blue orbs. “I wouldn’t leave you. I told Iggy and Gladio to go on, that I would stay behind, but...they didn’t want to leave either. Not without Noct. Not without you.” 

“What do you mean it’s been ‘weeks’?” You looked to Gladio.  

“Three weeks and four days since we came in and saw you and Noct get sucked into that thing, Ardyn standing outside of it, laughing like a lunatic. We hit him with everything we had but he just walked it off. And Prom, well. You know he wouldn’t leave you. So we’ve just been in the keep for these weeks, taking shifts guarding the stupid rock.” 

“Gods, I...I had no idea. In there, it seemed...it seemed like minutes.” You swallowed hard. “Uh. Well. Y’all aren't gonna like this. But if I spent the equivalent of weeks in the Crystal, then it’s highly possible that Noct’s gonna be in there for  _years._ ” 

Prompto made a sad, strangled noise and put his head in his hands.  

“Come on, let’s get somewhere safe. I have a lot to tell you, and you’ll probably wanna sit down.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen y'all, tbh I was very scared of writing this chapter. I really feel like I don't know what I'm doing, so I hope this was mostly okay.  
> Thanks as always to @flopity-flips for letting me talk stuff over with you.  
> I'm super bad at battle sequences, as you've probably already figured out, so I'm sorry for that.


	19. Interlude: Regis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This kind of...I don't even know. This chapter is hella long, so sorry for that. It's also kinda weird, but bear with me on it. I had lots of ideas about how to proceed with this but ultimately, it turned out how it turned out, so there. 
> 
> Basically, Regis is just an old dad who wants Reader to not be so jittery around him, and has ulterior motives to help her see that she IS a good Crownsguard. Also he just wants to get to know her better as a person. 
> 
> Also, the chapter starts out with anxiety attacks and fluff, because I needed to prove to @flopity-flips that I can write more than just sex, rofl. 
> 
> This is the summer before Noct, Prom, and Reader's senior year; so they're all almost 18.

It was a warm Saturday, the summer before her senior year of high school. She was curled up on the couch of Noct’s apartment, playing King’s Knight and watching Noctis and Prompto fail miserably at Assassin’s Creed on hard mode.  

“Hey, ____________, my dad said he wanted to talk to you.” 

“Wha...huh? Your dad...the king? Your  _dad_ , the  _king_?” _____________ suddenly panicked.  

Prompto turned from his floor position in front of her and gave a goofy grin. “Uh, well, his dad  _is the_ king, after all, so yeah?” 

“Oh hush.” ____________ kicked at the back of Prompto’s head, bare toes brushing soft blond hair, before turning back to Noctis, mouth set into a worried line. “Noctis. What did he say?” 

The prince shrugged, concentrating on hiding from the authorities in the game. “Dunno. Your birthday’s in a few months, yeah? Probably about your official swearing-in ceremony as my Crownsguard. I mean, what else could he want?” 

“I sure hope that’s it,” she said nervously. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant disciplinary action?” The wheels started turning in her anxiety-riddled brain, replaying every formal interaction she’d had with Cor, Clarus, Regis, Nyx, or any other high-level glaive or guard.  

“Nah, you’re fine,” Noct said. “No need to be scared of him. He likes you, so.” 

“I sure hope so.”  

“He does, trust me,” Noct laughed. “Aw, dammit. I died.” He passed the controller to Prompto. “Your turn dude.” 

“Sweet.” Prompto took the controller and resettled himself, leaning forward. He attempted to scratch the middle of his back but his arm couldn’t quite reach. “Hey __________, do me a solid, will ya?” he said, fingers tapping his back.  

“What? Oh—oh.” __________ leaned forward and gingerly touched the place on Prompto’s back, just below where his long, thin fingers couldn’t reach. 

Noctis watched in amusement as ____________’s cheeks went from a light flush of pink—their natural state when she was around any of the four of them—to a deep, cherry red.  

Prompto practically purred as he leaned back into her touch as she scratched, arching this way and that, instructing her where to place her nails next. After a good two minutes, Prompto turned back and smiled. “Uh, best back scratcher  _ever_. Thanks.” 

___________, trying to remember how to breathe, merely nodded. “You’re welcome,” she whispered. After Prompto turned back around, she shot a pained look at Noctis. The prince just laughed.  

As Prompto’s turn in the story mode progressed, ____________’s blush settled down a little and she became re-absorbed into her campaign on King’s Knight, goading Noctis into a PVP match. Ignis swung by sometime later with both take-out and Gladio in tow. After dinner and dessert, the five of them were spread out among the couch and armchairs, watching a cheesy sci-f comedy they’d seen a hundred times but that never failed to make the younger members of the party laugh.  

“Damn, I drank it all,” ___________ said, sighing into her red plastic cup. She dislodged herself from the tight place between the couch’s and Gladio’s arm. “Be right back.” 

“Oh hey, think you could grab me another soda?” Prompto called as ___________ exited the living room. 

“Y-yeah sure, Prom!” ____________ hastily refilled her cup with water, then grabbed the last of the neon green cans from the fridge. She paused to eat a few more bites of take-out from the Styrofoam container on the counter, trying to regulate her breathing that had suddenly become fast and tight. “Gods, fuck, here? Now?” She put the drinks on the counter and braced herself, both hands gripping the counter’s edge, knuckles white and arms locked. ___________ hung her head and tried taking slow, deep, full-body breaths. Blood was pounding in her ears and she felt like she was falling. She squeezed her eyes and sniffed, trying to hold back the imminent onslaught of hot tears.  

Suddenly, a hand was on her back, rubbing light circles into the fabric of her thin t-shirt. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

____________ didn’t know whether to be thankful or curse the Astrals that Prompto had wandered into the kitchen in the middle of an anxiety attack. “It’s...I’m fine, Prom. Anxiety. It just hits, y’know? I’ll be okay in a bit.” She nodded her head to the side. “Your soda’s right there, sorry.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Come here.” Both of his hands were on her, now, gripping her shoulders, forcing her to stand up fully and face him.  

___________’s eyes were wet with tears, face pale, breathing shallow and fast, fists clenched at her side. “Prompto, it’s...I’ll be fine in a little while.” 

“But you’re not fine now.” And he drew her into a full body hug, squeezing his lean muscle around her plush form, ignoring the way she stiffened as he closed himself around her. “It’s okay,” he breathed into her hair. “You can cry, I’m here.” 

“I was doing so well this week,” ____________ sniffed as she finally relaxed into the hug. “And I mean, it makes no sense, I’ve been fine all day.” She buried herself into Prompto’s soft cotton hoodie.  

“Was it Noct saying his dad wanted to talk to you?” 

“I dunno—maybe,” ___________ choked out.  

“You could always ask Noct to come with you. Or Iggy or Gladio, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” 

“Come with you where?” asked Noct as he walked into the kitchen. He put a hand on __________’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” 

“Anxiety attack,” said Prompto softly, looking at his best friend. “Not sure what caused it, but. Part of it might be what you said about your dad wanting to talk to her.” 

“Oh, hey, ___________. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you anxious tonight.” The prince stepped closer and put a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “I can come with you if you want, totally. It’s no big deal.”  

____________ shook her head against Prompto’s shoulder. “What kind of idiot Crownsguard can’t even go talk to the king alone? Jeez I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re not, you’re not,” Noct was saying, stepping closer, closing himself around the side of ___________ and Prompto. He looked at the blond and frowned. “My dad can intimidate anybody, it’s not wrong to be nervous about meeting with him.” 

“Yeah dude,”’ Prompto chuckled. “The king intimidates me a  _lot._ ” 

“Is everything well?” Ignis stepped into the kitchen, followed by Gladio. “Astrals, ___________ what’s wrong?” 

“I didn’t mean to make everyone worry about me,” __________ cried into Prompto’s hoodie, voice muffled with fabric. “Fuck.”  

“Anxiety attack,” Noctis said simply. “It might be about my dad wanting to meet with her, but it could be other stuff. She’s not sure.” 

“It just came up suddenly,” said Prompto, pained.  

Ignis walked around to Prompto’s back and bent, cupping ___________’s face with his spotless gloved hand as he lifted her chin. ___________’s eyes were red and her breathing was erratic, nose running with snot, cheeks flushed red from the effort of crying and from the feeling of being hugged by Prompto.  

“___________, darling,” Ignis said softly. “Of course we’re going to worry about you. You’re our friend. You’re one of us. When you hurt, we all hurt. Is there anything we can do to make you comfortable right now?” 

Gladio and Noctis whispered in agreement. 

“I...you...just y’all being here is enough,” __________ murmured. She clutched at Prompto’s back even harder. “But, um...” 

“Tell me. What can we do?” Ignis furrowed his brows in concern 

Prompto hugged her tighter.  

“Can I...wait. Where’s Noctis?” ________ drew away from Prompto, only a little, turning to the prince at her side. “I’m sorry, Noct. I’ve ruined movie night.” 

“No, no. Your feelings are always more important. We have movie night every weekend, it’s not a big deal. What can I do for you?” The prince, his hand not having left her shoulder, smiled. “Please. I’m your friend.” 

“I know,” she choked out, biting back more tears. “Can I just...lie down on your bed?” 

“Well duh. Come on.” Noctis dropped his hand and pried her fist open, sliding his hand into hers.  

Prompto wordlessly moved to the side and gripped her other hand. Ignis and Gladio followed close behind the three young friends as Noctis led them to his bedroom. __________ sat on the edge of the bed and laid back, curling her knees to her stomach and wiping her eyes.  

“Nope, that won’t do. Scoot over,” said Prompto.  

“What,” __________ was saying, but the smaller blond was already rolling her to the side, sliding his arm underneath her and placing another arm on top of her, bringing __________ close to his chest.  

“When I get anxious, my weighted blanket helps me,” Prompto whispered into her hair. “I know I’m not a blanket, but.” He laughed. “Maybe some weight will help.” 

“Better than a blanket,” ___________ murmured.  

Noctis watched as Prompto blushed, eyes twinkling. “Okay, well. I don’t like being left out of things.” Noctis climbed on the bed and sat up against the headboard, pushing his leg firm up against __________’s back and placing a hand on her head.  

Gladio sat on the bed wordlessly, took ___________’s feet in his hands, and began to massage them.  

“Oh fuck, Gladio.” ___________ moaned at the press of Gladio’s strong hands into her soles.  

The shield laughed. “I know training’s picked up lately, you’re probably pretty sore. You’re gonna start royal protection duty at the Citadel after your birthday, right?” 

_____________ nodded softly. “Provided I pass the test,” she whispered. 

“And you will, with flying colors,” said Ignis as he sat on the bed and placed his hand on her leg. “There’s no need to worry about that now. Just breathe. We’ve got you. You’re safe.” 

____________ pushed herself further into Prompto and continued to cry. Riding out an anxiety attack wasn’t easy, but with her friends around her, it was a lot more bearable.  

 

____________ awoke the next morning with a start, jumping out of Noct’s king-size bed and nearly knocking over Prompto, who’d just come in with a hot cup of coffee.  

“Whoa, easy there buddy!” Prompto swerved, holding the steaming mug as steady as he could. “Coffee?” 

____________ sat back on the bed and turned, peering over a wall of pillows and seeing a sprawled-out drooling Noctis, breathing heavily as he slept. She turned back to Prompto, wide-eyed in horror. “Oh shit, oh shit, Prom, I did  _not_ just sleep in the same bed as  _Noctis_.” She put her head in her hands. “Excuse me while I go die now.” 

“Hey, at least drink some coffee first. I made it for you,” Prompto teased. “It’s no big. I stayed over too, crashed on the couch. Ignis put all these spare pillows in the middle of the bed and gave Noctis a really long lecture.” 

____________ scoffed as she took the hot mug from Prompto. “As if Noctis would ever want to...never mind.” She shook her head and took a sip. “Oh wow, this coffee is super good. What is it?” 

“Ebony’s breakfast blend, I think? I dunno. It’s whatever Ignis keeps for himself when he’s over here.” 

“I hope he doesn’t get mad at you for making it. Or me for drinking it.” 

“Nah, never you. I’ll take the fall if he gets pissy,” Prompto laughed. He sat on the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulder.  

___________’s face went red and she hoped that Prompto would chalk it up to hot liquids instead of schoolgirl crushes. “Hey, Prom. Thanks for...thanks for last night.” 

“Dude, no big deal. You’re one of us, right? We look out for each other. At each other’s side, always.” He pulled her into a hug.  

____________ rubbed the top edge of the coffee mug as she leaned into Prompto’s side. Tears started falling again.  

“What’s wrong,” Prompto breathed, not moving.  

“No, it’s not bad, I’m just...I’m so happy that I have you, Noct, Gladio, Iggy. I’m so glad you guys are my friends. It’s hard for me to make friends, y’know? The girls at school hate me. And it’s impossible for me to talk to boys.” 

Prompto choked out a whiny “But we’re all boys,” and ___________ laughed. “You know what I mean, Prompto.” 

“No? I’m confused. I don’t know why it’d be hard for you to talk to anyone, ___________. You’re super smart, and funny, and nice, and wicked talented. It’s their fault for missing out on being your friend. And besides, if boys don’t like you, then they’re stupid.” 

____________ wanted to fight him, wanted to retort so badly and tell him all the horrible things about herself, but she kept quiet, reveling in the quiet warmth of the morning, of Prompto, of the coffee. She took another sip, and something buzzed on the bedside table. “Oh shit, I should probably let my parents know I’m okay.” She leaned out of Prompto’s grasp and fumbled for the smartphone, standing up.  

“They know you’re over here, Iggy texted them last night before he left, after you’d fallen asleep.” 

“Not like they probably care much anyway. Oh, fuck, oh shit, Prompto.” ____________ set the mug on the bedside table and gaped at him, vibrating phone in hand.  

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s...it’s Gladio’s  _dad._ ” 

“Holy shit,  _the_ Clarus Amicitia is calling you?” 

“What do I do?!” 

“Just...just answer it!” Prompto panicked. He stood quickly and held ____________’s hand.  

“Hell...hello?” ____________ breathed, shakily. “Uh, yeah, I mean yes sir, it’s me, sir.” Silence. “Oh, his Majesty? Okay, I’ll hold. Thank you, Lord Amicitia.” She moved the phone away from her face and mouthed  _The_ _king is getting on the phone holy fuck._  

Prompto watched nervously as ____________ shuffled from foot to foot.  

“Oh, hello, your Majesty. Yes, it’s me, ____________. Uh, yeah, yes sir, Noctis had mentioned you wanted to speak with me, sir.” Silence. “Uh, my schedule tomorrow? I think I have training with the glaives for a few hours in the morning, but that’s it. What’s that, sir? Cancel training? Uh....right. Okay. Yes sir. I’ll be at the Citadel for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Dress casual? Yes sir. Okay, your Majesty. Yes sir. Thank you sir. Good bye.” ____________ threw the phone on the bed and flopped onto the bed face-down.  

“What in the world was that all about?” Prompto sat.  

“The king invited me to breakfast with him. Told me to cancel training.” ____________’s voice was muffled in the soft down comforter of Noctis’ bed.  

“Really? Wow. You must be pretty special, huh?” He teased.  

____________ shot up and glared at him. “But I’m not though.” Her gaze softened a little. “At least...it didn’t sound like I was in trouble? I mean if I was, Cor would probably have pulled me into his office by now, right?” 

Prompto swallowed and nodded. “I mean yeah, probably. I’m not sure how all that works, anyway.” 

“I mean, he would have, definitely. Speaking of, guess I should let him know I’m royally off the hook tomorrow.” ____________ searched through her contacts and pushed a name, bringing the phone to her ear as she propped herself up on her elbows. “Marshal,” she started, voice tinged with nervousness again. “Uh, sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but. His Majesty just called me. He’s invited me to meet with him tomorrow at nine at the Citadel. He told me to cancel training. I was set to train with Nyx, Gladio, and the Captain for a few hours. May I reschedule? …Right, okay. Thank you sir. See you next time. Good bye.”  

“And?” 

“Well, he said that King Regis trumps all. But that means I have to pull a double on Tuesday. Ugh.” She dropped the phone.  

There was rustling in the sheets on the other side of the bed and a very groggy prince sat up slowly, black hair even in more disarray than usual. He stretched and yawned, big and loud. Rubbing his eyes, he focused on Prompto and ___________ on the bed across from him.  

“Mornin’,” he said, voice thick with sleep.  

“All hail the zombie prince!” Prompto was singing as he closed the gap between them in seconds, tackling Noctis back down to his pillows.  

“Gods, Prompto, why are you so heavy in the morning,” Noctis whined, trying to get his best friend off of him. “No, please, don’t tickle me, fuck...!” Noctis laughed as Prompto dug his hands into the prince’s sides. “Haha...___________! Help! Help your prince! I command you!” 

____________ guffawed as she crawled to Noctis’s spot and grabbed one of the spare pillows, knocking Prompto in the back of the head.  

The blond fell forward and stopped moving for a minute before turning back to ___________, a shit-eating grin on his face as he grabbed his own pillow and swung at her, but ___________’s reflexes from over 18 months of formal Crownsguard training kicked in and she ducked, swinging again with the full force of her body and catching Prompto in the side with a loud  _thwack_. 

“Ow, hey! Whose side are you on?” Prompto laughed as he fell beside Noctis, who wiggled away off the bed and grabbed a pillow of his own, standing on shaky legs.  

He yawned. “C’mon, ___________, let’s show Prom what happens when he messes with the prince and his Crownsguard,” Noctis teased. 

___________ smirked as she brought her pillow high over her head. “Sorry Prompto,” she laughed.  

“Not fair!” Prompto screamed as his two friends rained downy feathers on top of him.  

 

The next morning, an armored SUV with a government-issued license plate barreled down the narrow highways of Insomnia, ___________ in tow. She’d been frantically texting Prompto all morning in order to calm down. Though the king had advised her to dress casually, she was still in top form in black jeans, her combat boots, a black sweater and her Crownsguard-issued track jacket that had the guard insignia embellished in gold filigree on the back. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail. She carried nothing except her phone and her house keys in her jacket pockets.  

The driver glanced back at her and smiled. “We’re almost there, Miss __________.” 

“Oh, no, just ___________, please.” She desperately tried to think of his name; she’d been escorted places by this particular man before.  _Adrianus? Amicus? Antonius?_  

“Nonsense. Esteemed members of the Crownsguard should be treated with respect.” The driver’s phone rang and he tapped the wireless device in his ear. “Aquarius here, sir.” 

 _Aquarius! Knew it started with an A,_  __________ hummed to herself.  

The driver finished his phone call as he was pulling up next to the Citadel’s side entrance reserved for the royal retainers. He popped the inside locks and turned to ___________. “Been a pleasure driving you as always, Miss ___________.” 

“Oh-oh! Thank you, Mr. Aquarius. Hope to see you again soon.” 

The driver smiled. “Enjoy your day!” He waved as she got out of the car and drove away once he saw her approach the glaive at the side door, salute, and slip inside the palace.  

____________ walked the now-familiar halls and hopped into the elevator, pushing the button for the tenth floor, where she knew the king would be waiting for her in his private study. She glanced at her watch—it was 8:55, she was right on time. She sent a quick text to Prompto to tell him that she wouldn’t be able to talk anymore; the elevator dinged, and __________ stepped out, jogging down the hall until she reached the study.  

“Come in!” said the gruff but pleasant voice of the king as ___________ knocked on the door.  

____________ turned the doorknob and peered inside, stepping through the crack in the door and shutting the slab of solid oak behind her. “Good morning, your Majesty.” She hastily bowed in the Citadel’s formal way.  

The king looked up from his morning paper and smiled. “No need for all of that. Come here, have a seat.” 

The girl crossed the room and sat nervously on the edge of the leather chair on the other side of Regis’ desk. “I, uh. I hope that you are well this morning, sir.” 

Regis hummed. “I am doing fine this morning, thank you my dear.” A few more minutes of silence passed as the king perused the news, but he lowered it, finally, staring at the young Crownsguard in front of him. “Well then. Are you ready for breakfast?” 

As if in answer, ___________’s stomach gurgled. She grabbed her midsection, embarrassed. “Um, yes sir, if it pleases your Majesty.” 

The king smiled. “Well then.” He stood. “Shall we go?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

The elevator ride down to the first-floor casual dining hall and kitchen was a long and awkward one, the king making polite conversation about how school had gone the previous year, what Noctis was up to, how training was going. They sat at the long table, Regis at the head and ___________ at the place of honor on his right, eating eggs and bacon and pancakes in near silence.  

____________’s head began to grow heavy with anxiety and worry, so at risk of saying the wrong thing, she put her fork down, took a long swig of orange juice, and faced the king. “Your Majesty,” she said quietly. “May I ask why you requested to eat with me today? Have I...done something wrong?” 

The king stared at her, dumbfounded. “I fear I have left too much unsaid.” He chuckled. “My dear, you have done nothing wrong, far from it. You are, if the Marshal has any weigh in on the matter, doing everything decidedly  _right_ , and then some. However, it has come to both his attention and the attention of Ignis that you are, to put it lightly, a bundle of anxiety.” 

___________ quickly looked down, cheeks red. “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. It’s...I know it must be kind of a pain to have a guard with a mental illness.” 

“Nonsense.” Regis waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve invited you to breakfast because I want you to feel less anxious here, in the Citadel. I want you to feel less anxious around  _me_.” 

“Your Majesty, I...I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I don’t mean for it to be a slight against you. I’m like this around almost everyone, I swear. And with you being who you are...it kinda comes with your territory, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

“Are you like this around my son? Or the others?” 

“Oh, I mean...I was at first. It’s gotten kinda better, sir. But I tend to slip into formality sometimes and Noctis has to persuade me to joke around more.” She chuckled as she took another sip of orange juice. “It’s manifests mostly with figures of authority. Just ask the Marshal.” She looked up at the king and smiled.  

The king smiled in return, then turned back to his meal. “Your parents. They have other young children at home, yes?” 

“Yeah, my brother, Dalmatius. He’s five now. And my twin sisters, Flora and Fauna. They’re about to turn eight.” ___________’s voice dropped a little as she spoke, and she sighed. “They’re pretty busy with them, so I mean, ever since we moved here and I started high school and I started training, they just kinda...I mean it’s not like they don’t care. They’re very proud of me. But I guess I’m kind of already grown in their eyes. And when I turn eighteen, I mean, I guess I’ll be expected to move out.” 

King Regis raised an eyebrow as he swallowed. “But you won’t even be out of high school yet.” 

___________ shrugged. “It’ll be less of a burden on them, I mean, with the three little ones. I figured I could just move into a cheap place in the refugee district. That’s where Prompto lives, so.” 

The king’s eyes widened. “That’s...that’s clear across the city. I didn’t realize Mr. Argentum lived so far away.” 

“Yeah he says it takes him an hour and a half by bus to get to school, but I mean, rent is cheap over there. I think my Crownsguard compensation could pay for it. I’ve been saving up, anyway, so I have a little to start out with. Or I could share, get a roommate.” 

The king said nothing as he finished his meal. ____________ quickly finished as well, not wanting to keep Regis waiting, and he stood.  

“Come on, my dear. There are some things I want to show you. And I want you to talk to me more.” He motioned as he grabbed his cane and began to limp toward the door.  

“Oh-oh. Yes, your Majesty.” ___________ quickly caught up and opened the door.  

 

The duo walked down the hall and hopped on the elevator, Regis pushing the button for the fifth floor.  

___________ smiled. “Are we going to the library?” 

“Quite right,” Regis smiled. “You’ve spent a fair amount of time there over the past couple of years, have you not?” 

“Yeah, mostly doing homework and doing extra-curricular studies on Lucian lore. I also tutor sometimes.” 

“Ah, the young Mr. Argentum, I remember well.” 

“He was pretty hopeless in literature at the beginning of high school, but he’s definitely gotten better. We only have to meet once a week now.” 

I’m sure thanks solely to your efforts,” Regis replied as the elevator dinged, opened, and the two wandered down the hall. 

“Oh, no, I mean, Insomnia’s got really good teachers.” ____________ chuckled nervously. “I mean, I didn’t do much.” 

“I wish you would give yourself more credit.” Regis stopped and faced her, staring her down.  

“I...yes sir. Sorry.” 

“You are brilliant, I hope you know that. My son is better off for having you on his team, for having you as a friend. The Marshal is consistently remarking on how incredible you are. You’re quite the gifted medic. And being able to share the same divine magic that has kept the Empire at bay, the same magic that runs through these old bones.” He smiled. “Incredible. I wonder what the gods have in store for you. Have they ever spoken to you?” 

“I mean, there was this one time, when I was little. I think it was right around when I started to notice I could heal minor scrapes and scratches. It was Ramuh, in a dream. He didn’t say much, in fact I don’t remember if he ever said anything. All I heard explicitly were the words ‘child of common blood,’ but I don’t know what they mean. The only other contact they have with me is...” _________ pursed her lips in thought. “It’s hard to explain.” 

“Tell me.” Regis turned back to the door and opened it, leading both of them into the library. It wasn’t completely deserted; they passed Ignis browsing the shelves and he smiled brightly as soon as he saw the two, but made no move to interrupt the king. Regis motioned for ___________ to sit on one of the plush couches as he pulled a large album from a nearby shelf. He sat beside her, album closed, as he waited for her to finish.  

She sighed. “It’s like every time I want to heal, or cast a spell, I have to go...inside...of myself and ask permission. Like each use is a tiny contract. I have to make contracts with them, over and over. Like I constantly have to prove myself to the gods so that I can continue to have this gift.” 

Regis hummed. “Have you spoken to Ignis about this? He’s our resident Cosmogonist. And you’re not far behind him, I hear.” 

“Yeah, I...I’m okay at it, I guess. I wanted to be a librarian, I mean, before all of this.” 

Regis patted her knee. “Your knowledge of our lore will be instrumental to helping you further develop your magic. But look.” The king opened the large book in his lap and to her surprise, it was an album full of childhood pictures of... 

“Here’s Noctis when he was two, cuddling a stuffed carbuncle I had made for him,” Regis was saying, eyes twinkling.  

“That’s his guardian messenger, right? I’ve read about them.” __________ smiled at the baby picture. “Forgive me, your Majesty, but Noct was so  _cute_.” 

“Isn’t he, though? Don’t be shy, now. Remember that’s what today is all about.” Regis flipped a page, pointing out another picture. “This is when he was six, I believe. He hated taking baths.” 

___________ flushed just a little at the waist-up picture of young Noctis in a tub full of bubbles. She would definitely keep these pictures committed to memory for blackmail purposes.  

The morning flew by, __________ and Regis talking about Noct’s and her childhood, discussing current events, and anything and everything in between. ___________ learned that Regis like hot tea in the morning and iced tea in the evening, he liked wearing sweatpants on Saturday nights, and that he liked cheesy, tropey romantic comedies. __________ told him more details about her childhood in the Leide region, that she liked casual, world-building games—with the exception of the ubiquitous King’s Knight—and that she preferred the color black and would probably wear it always anyway, even if she hadn’t been a Crownsguard, because it was slimming.  

Regis visibly ruffled at that. “Slimming,” he said slowly, coming to the last page of the album, which contained more recent pictures of Noctis in his middle and high school uniforms, and a group picture of him, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto.  

“Well, yeah—yeah,” ____________ finished quietly. “I mean...wow, your Majesty, this is awkward. Sorry. Not sure if I can talk to you about this.” 

“I wish you would,” Regis replied. “I’d like to get to know you as much as I can.” He patted her knee again. “Indulge an old man, if you please.” 

“Well, you know,” ___________ continued. “It’s pretty plain, your Majesty. I’m fat.” 

“Okay,” said Regis. “And?” 

“And, well. Fat girls like me, we don’t get much in the way of opportunity. I get teased a lot in school, have my whole life. I’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been kissed. I’m afraid I’m never even going to get married. I eat pretty healthfully, despite it all. I mean, Ignis loves me because I could eat his vegetables all day. And even after all the training I’ve been through, I’m still...I’ll just never be able to really  _fight,_ you know. Not like the others. Not like Noctis.” Her shoulders fell. “The most I can hope for is long-distance elemental attacks and healing. Which is ironic, actually, since it’s a health condition that keeps the weight on me.” 

“That’s all we’ve ever asked of you. The Marshal is wise, and is good at judging limitations. He would never ask you to do something beyond your physical ability.” Regis replied with a smile. “Don’t worry, ___________. I think you’re quite lovely. You’re young. Who knows where life will take you? Noctis and his friends seem to think very highly of you. You should think highly of yourself in turn.” The king glanced at his watch. “Ah, it’s nearly half-past twelve. What do you say to lunch in the garden?” 

“That sounds nice, your Majesty.” ____________ smiled.  

 

The Citadel’s gardens were even more impressive from the inside than from the outside, mazes of topiaires, exotic flowers and trees imported from not just Lucis but from all over the world. ___________ gazed on in awe as they passed rows and rows of greenhouses, vegetables grown for the royal family and its nobles all year round, no matter the bitter winds or cold or dry spells. They made their way to beautiful, polished wood table and benches under a weeping willow tree, right next to a large pond swimming with large, multicolored fish. The meal was simple: club sandwiches stacked four rows deep, crisp fried potatoes, and sparkling water.  

“Ah,” said Regis, sitting. “A simple indulgence, if you don’t mind. It’s far too warm for anything heavy or hot. Forgive me for asking for one of my childhood favorites this afternoon.” 

__________ laughed. “I’m not going to be unimpressed with a sandwich, your Majesty. It looks delicious.”  

And it was—the bread was warm and fresh, the meat seasoned perfectly, the condiments savory and the vegetable dressings fresh and sweet. The potatoes were fried to perfection and not too greasy, seasoned with garlic and black truffle oil.  

As they were finishing up, all conversation having died to idle sentences every few minutes as the two ate, the king’s phone rang. He growled a little and pulled the device from his pocket.  

“You must excuse me, dear.” The king pushed a button and brought the phone to his hear, standing on shaky cane and walking a few paces away.  

“No problem, sir,” ___________ said as the king stood. She took the opportunity to bring out her own phone, momentarily ignoring the barrage of pictures in messages from Prompto, instead opening up the thread between herself and Noctis.  

 _Can I just saw how awkward and sweet your dad actually is?_  

 A reply, seconds later.  _Yeah_ _he’s like that once you get to know him. Is everything okay?_  

 _Sure, we had breakfast earlier, and then he brought me to the library. To look at your fucking baby pictures._  

 _HE DIDN’T_  

 _Yeah, he did. I’ve committed the bubble bath ones to memory, fyi._  

 _Fucking Astrals_  

 _XD Oh c’mon, you were so cute as a kid. Wonder what happened?_  

 _Hey, HEY. If I recall, YOURE the one who thinks I’m...what’s the word... “pretty”?_  

 _You’re a royal dick_  

 _Two can play at this game, dude_  

 _Rude._ _Anyway_ _we’re having lunch and he got a phone call so I just wanted to check in. We’ve just...we really just talked a lot. Just been bumming around the Citadel._  

 _Well I’m glad things are going okay. I mean is that all he wanted, to just eat meals with you and chat and embarrass the hell out of me?_  

 _You’re not the only one embarrassed. He’s squeezed out all of my insecurities today. He’s just...trying to get to know_ _me_ _I guess? Idk. I appreciate his efforts. Idk if it’s taking away all of my anxiety but it is nice to just be a little more chill with him. I haven’t even seen_ _Gladio’s_ _dad today. Must’ve given him the day off._  

 _I mean you are a_ _Crownsguard_ _, it’s not like he’s not walking around his own house without protection. But_ _yeah_ _I’m glad you’re feeling better, glad today is okay. Proud of you. But not proud that you’ve seen all my baby pictures._  

 _I feel like I’ve been let in on state secrets. It’s a pretty impressive photo album._ _Kinda_ _odd that he keeps it in the library where anyone can go in and pull it off the shelf, tho_  

 _HE KEEPS IT_ WHERE 

 

The king was approaching the table again, pocketing his phone and extending a hand to help ___________ from her seated position. She tentatively rose and gave an awkward smile.  

“Everything well, your Majesty?”  

“Unfortunately, a pressing matter has arisen, and I’m afraid our day has to be cut a little short. I’m sorry to leave you, but perhaps dinner at another point in time will make up for it?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to—today was very nice, your Majesty. More than enough. Thank you so much.” 

The king waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I’m determined to make it up to you. Think you can do an old man one more favor and escort me to the throne? I’m sure Clarus has been fidgeting all day, but I assured him that a few hours in the hands of a more than capable Crownsguard didn’t mean his failure as a shield. He’ll be waiting for me.” He turned on his heel and started back towards the palace. “Besides, if you’re good enough for me, you’re good enough for my son.” 

___________ stood dumbly in place for a few long seconds as she realized the ulterior motive of the king. Swallowing hard, she jogged up to him, placing a hand on his back and escorting him inside, smiling.  


	20. Touch-Starved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short summary of the first three years of the World of Ruin after Noctis disappears into the crystal. 
> 
> And uh. A very surprising interaction with Ignis. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS NEVER GONNA FINISH THE MAIN TIMELINE HUH. (Seriously though I'm sorry this was on hold for so long. I was in a major rut. I'm trying to climb out of it.) Thanks to Amanda (flopity_flips) as usual for letting me bounce ideas off of her.

The first six months were almost ridiculously easy to live through. After escaping from Zegnautus Keep in Niflheim—weeks after you’d all actually planned to, because of the weird time-altering magic of the Crystal—the four of you had taken up refuge in Lestallum. The old Leville hotel had been converted into a series of long-term mini apartments, and refugees from other, more deserted and dangerous parts of Lucis had been pouring in almost nonstop. The manager of the Leville had recognized all of you instantly and had given you the keys to one of the deluxe suites on the top floor, the one you’d stayed at so long ago...the room where you’d finally lost your virginity to Prompto. You blushed a little as you had shakily opened the door. The suite was exactly as you’d remembered, with its two queen beds, the spacious bathroom, the adjoining living room and kitchenette. Gladio had dropped what was left of his personal belongings on the far side of the room, and you had immediately gotten to work in the kitchen, letting Ignis recite an easy recipe to you and help you where he was able. This was going to be your home for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t stay like that for long, though. As the year had progressed, Gladio and Prompto had taken up escorting refugees, looking for missing persons, and hunting the daemons that just kept coming and coming. The bright lights of the city and the ever-faithful power plant were the only safe haven around for miles, now that unending night had fallen like a thick blanket over the whole world.  

 

Prompto was away a lot during the first two years of darkness, coming back to Lestallum on the weekends, but hunting with Cor, Gladio, Aranea, and other hunters during the weekdays. There was a rotating party in and out of the old hotel suite almost every week—it was less like a home, even though you slept and ate and took showers there, and more like an armory and makeshift hospital. You were still the healer, after all—still the combat medic, but you weren’t comfortable going back out on hunts, not just yet. So you were background support, learning from Prompto as best as you could how to clean the various weapons that everyone used. Aranea showed you the exact way to sharpen her lance, and Gladio was more than trusting of you with his greatsword. As fascinated as you were by the simple, intimate act of Prompto cleaning his guns, the sight of  _you_ handling them seemed to have an even more intense effect on the blond himself.  

 

 The gods were silent, even in that inner realm of subconscious thought that had previously been their sacred communing space; so you weren’t sure how to keep people safe other than using your magic to heal them, to keep the hunters supplied and fed and rested as they came in and out of the hotel suite. You were able to heal without explicit permission, and as the darkened days passed, you felt yourself feeling like you did just before the journey to Altissia had begun—powerful, but more mature and more secure. You were less self-deprecating these days, instead trying to throw yourself into whatever work was needed. The top-floor suite was soon becoming Lestallum’s premier hospital, armory, and hunting hub. You’d rarely interacted with so many people in your life, but someone was always needing something from you. Money was scarce, and the owner of the hotel accepted whatever you could provide, but more often than not he waved his hand and said that the help you were giving to the citizens of the city was infinitely more important.  _Besides,_ he’d said,  _you’re_ _part of the king’s royal guard. If the time comes that he brings back the light, I know the_ _Crown’ll_ _be good for payment._ But you hated having debt, so you took up odd errands for the owner to help pay down the rent; everything was a distraction, even medical procedures. The setting of a broken bone and then mending it back to full health was a welcome distraction during the long days of waiting for your husband to come back safely. You got daily texts, or phone calls from the one working phone in Hammerhead, but his absence was like a pain in your chest and you never slept well when he was gone, which meant that you and Ignis were burning through what had to be half the coffee left in all of Lestallum four or five days out of the week, sleeping as little as possible to avoid nightmares and restless dozing that often left you more tired than before.  

 

Oh Ignis. At first, he was hesitant to even stay in the same room as you and Prompto, fidgeting uncharacteristically and protesting to Gladio— _But they’re_ _married!--_ until you’d put your foot down and refused to let him go anywhere else. The first couple of years the others were out hunting, you’d helped Ignis navigate the kitchen and the ever-growing crowded markets of Lestallum like he’d done so all those months ago. Ignis often didn’t talk much, and you were almost always sure that he found your aid annoying, but he didn’t say anything as you’d help to guide his hand on the knife and cutting board to chop up an onion for the curry; or guided him smoothly through the throng of people in the city center to gather food and supplies. You constantly reassured him that you wanted to help him regain his independence as soon as possible—he perked up whenever he heard a hunter enter, asking them about the details of the daemons, their weapons, the locations where they were gathering, etc. Then you’d feed them and patch them up and the hunters would nap and Ignis would sigh on the couch as you sat next to him and held his hand.  

Physical intimacy had rarely been his strong suit, and he’d only ever been overly-affectionate towards you, you figured, because you were a girl; but Ignis was openly resting his head on your shoulders, now, when the two of you would sit on the pull-out sofa; or he’d hold your hand the entire way through the market, even after he’d learned to navigate quite well on his own—it was, in his own way, a sense of grounding; you were a constant force, strong and present and patient. It was softening the advisor around the edges. He’d even fallen asleep with you one night—you'd found a copy of a history book that had been a favorite of his back in Insomnia, and he’d asked you to read it, a little embarrassed; but you’d plucked it from the box on the floor with gusto and began reading about the history of the world, and barely two hours in, you felt his head loll on your shoulder. You’d closed the book after reading a few more sentences. Ignis’ hair was down and swept across his forehead, his glasses were off and he was dressed in a soft cotton t-shirt and loose pajama bottoms. You’d pressed a chaste kiss to the top of his head, heart aching for the beautiful blind six-foot man asleep on the bed beside you. Ignis had always been beautiful, and his scar and his lost eyesight did nothing to diminish his noble features. And Prompto had snuck in several hours later, waking you from your light doze—but Ignis had been out like a light, and your husband had chuckled even as your face went red and you were sputtering out apologies and “It’s not what it looks like!” 

 

After the second year of Ignis getting his bearings, working on heightening his other senses, and feeling his way back into the kitchen, he began to go out on hunts with Gladio, Prompto, and the others. You were alone most days of the week, with maybe Iris occasionally spending the night—but she was becoming a lethal hunter in her own right, and she never spent more than two nights at the old hotel room with you. One day bled into another—healing and surgery and enchanting potions or status boosters; cooking for yourself, the hunters, Prompto and Ignis and Gladio; going to the market; napping a few hours; running errands for the Leville’s manager; odd jobs at the power plant; maintaining a stock of weapons; and bartering for more weapons or upgrades to existing guns and swords for when the hunters cycled back through every week. Another skill you’d seen fit to pick up during the beginning of the darkness was sewing. Prompto seemed to come home with his clothes in utter shreds—his trusted old vest was acquiring more and more patches, but the more you practiced with the old sewing machine you’d traded for a handful of potions at a merchant’s stall in a back alley off the main center, the better you’d gotten. The top floor suite of the Leville—hotel turned studio apartment complex—was nearly single-handedly being turned into a tailor’s shop, a rest stop for hunters, a hospital, a weapons tune-up and cleaning station, and a restaurant.  

The first six months had been ridiculously easy. But, going on year three, you were starting to feel the brunt of keeping everything together.  

 

Prompto was home early; it was an early Thursday afternoon around three o’clock when you heard the doorknob jiggle and the old wooden door squeak open. Your husband stepped in with a groan and closed the door behind him, barely making it to the bed before collapsing onto the worn-out mattress. You’d been patching up an old jacket of Gladio’s when he stomped through the door.  

“Hey Sunshine,” you said lovingly as you set the jacket down and went to the bed, stroking his choppy blond hair, which was matted with sweat, blood, and hair gel.  

“Mmmmmmmmph,” Prompto groaned in response. He turned his head to the side and his weathered blue eyes fell on you, and he smiled one of his heart-melting smiles. “Hi wifey,” he whispered.  

“Didn’t expect you till tomorrow. Cor let you off early?” You moved to the other side of the bed to lie on your stomach beside him. 

“I...I kinda just told him I was coming back to you. He didn’t object much. The hunt was finished anyway; we were just gonna help Cindy with some stuff, but she told me to come back to you, too.” 

You chuckled as you rubbed circles on his back and he sighed into your touch. “I miss her. We talk on the phone sometimes, but I miss spending time with her.” 

“Yeah?” Prompto yawned and then smiled at you. “You should come with me next time. That way we wouldn’t be apart for a week and you and her could have gal pal time. Hell, you’d get to be with Aranea too.” Prompto paused, then frowned. “Okay, how is it that you’re the one that all the hot girls gravitate towards?” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh so you  _do_ think Cindy and Aranea are hot, huh?” 

Prompto blushed and flailed as he finally sat up. “No-no! It’s not like that, I was just...I was just saying...” 

You laughed as you sat and began to unbutton the winter coat he’d worn on his adventures in the tundra of Niflheim.  “Prom, baby. I’m kidding.” 

“You think they’re hot too, don’t lie. You’ve like, cuddled and kissed them and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as his jacket fell open and you put your hands on his thin red tank top.  

“It’s because I’m friend-shaped,” you chuckled as you slid his coat from his body. Prompto was definitely filling out more and more, coming into his manhood well. His boyish face was filling out, but his jawline was still sharp enough to flay your heart open every time you saw him. He was getting thicker, not afraid to start bulking up with all the intensive daemon-hunting and people-saving he was doing; and you’d learned more and more recipes from Ignis and the local chefs that were heavy on the protein. He’d cut his hair shorter on the sides, but the top was still kind of styled like a chocobo’s butt, like always. And he’d even begun to sprout some patchy facial hair. Poor baby—you were sure it would all come in eventually. Still, you were head over heels for your husband—it didn’t matter if you were sixteen or twenty-three or ninety-three. It would always, ever, only be him.  

“You  _are_ friend-shaped,” Prompto said as he shuffled out of his jacket. “Very round and very cute. And very beautiful.” He smiled at you. “More like, wife-shaped, I’d say. Gods,” he breathed quietly. “I’m still in awe that I get to say that.”  

You blushed and looked down. Your self-esteem was getting better, especially since you were making yourself and the old hotel suite so useful, but sometimes the old self-doubt crept in, even though you and Prompto had been married for over three years.  

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward and capturing your mouth in a soft, open kiss. “Shower with me?” 

As if you could ever refuse a request like that. You and Prompto scrambled off the bed, dropping clothes to the floor with a rushed giddiness, and pushed each other into the bathroom. Prompto groaned with relief as the hot water hit his body; he closed his eyes and stood there as you soaped up a rag with antibacterial soap and began to wash him. You were meticulous in dragging the soapy cloth over his hardened body, humming quietly in admiration as you cleaned off the dirt and blood, checking him for wounds. He was littered with scars and bruises these days, but everything else seemed intact. After several minutes, Prompto opened his eyes and stepped out from the flow of water, closer to you.  

“Hi,” you breathed quietly.  

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Prompto wrapped his arms around you and pressed himself to you as close as he could—like if he tried hard enough, the two of you would fuse together, never to part again.  

“Heh,” you laughed. “What brings this on?” 

“You just need to know. I don’t know if you get told this often enough,” Prompto said as he sucked gently on your neck.  

You inhaled sharply and didn’t miss the press of his cock against your lower abdomen. “Incredible at what? I’m not doing anything. You and the others are out there doing all the work. I’m beginning to think that I should pack up shop and start making myself useful out there again, like we did on the trip.” 

Prompto sighed. The ill-fated journey that was supposed to have ended in a simple royal wedding and the signing of a peace treaty was still a heavy point of contention, but talking about it—and Noctis—had gotten easier with time. You and Prompto were able to reminisce without crying, mostly. It hurt you to keep secrets from the guys, but you hadn’t had the heart to tell them what Bahamut had revealed to you and Noctis in the Crystal—that whenever Noct was going to come back, he was inevitably going to die. You couldn’t decide whether it was better to tell them now, or to wait for Noct to tell everyone himself.  

You bit back tears as you looked back at Prompto.  

“Useful,” laughed Prompto incredulously. “You’re like, the most useful person in this city. You should hear how the hunters talk about you. They always want you along on hunts, y’know. Cindy asks about you constantly, so does Aranea. Gladio and Ignis miss the hell out of you. I walk around the stalls at the market and I almost never get good deals until I mention I’m ________’s husband. You light up everyone’s eyes like the missing sun.”  

You just stared at Prompto, wet and naked, as he revealed what everyone around you really thought about you. You knew you were making some sort of impact, but you didn’t realize how much. You didn’t think you were doing anything as meaningful as slaying daemons and escorting people to safety, or making sure that the last bastions of safety had everything they needed to keep running.  

“And I...let’s not get started on me. It breaks my heart to be away from you. I know you understand more than anyone why I have to be away so much, but...it doesn’t make it easier.” 

You nodded. “If I wasn’t such a fucking weakling, I’d be out there with you.” 

Prompto kissed you and pressed himself into you again. “You’re not weak. C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up. I want to show you how much I missed you.” 

You swallowed hard at the lustful look in Prompto’s gaze. The two of you quickly finished cleaning up and, after hanging a sign on the outside of the door that said “Do Not Disturb,” Prompto took you to bed.  

 

The next morning had Ignis walking in just as Prompto was getting out of bed and shuffling his boxers on.  

“Morning, Iggy,” the blond chirped. “Glad to see you back in one piece.” 

“You as well, Prompto,” the adviser replied. “Is _________ awake yet?” 

“Ah, no. She’s right here, though, need me to wake her?” 

“If you please.” 

“You okay dude?” 

“I believe I have pulled a hamstring in my left leg. I would like her to take a look at it.” 

Prompto bit his lip. He did notice Ignis walking into the suite a little slower than usual. He rarely needed help these days and was pretty confident about walking into places.  

“I’m going to get started on some coffee,” Ignis said as he dropped his things and felt his way into the next room and the kitchenette.  

“Wait, wait, Iggy! You should get cleaned up. I can make breakfast.” 

Ignis turned and smirked. “I wanted coffee, Prompto, not a fire.” 

Prompto pouted, and he knew that Ignis could see it in his mind’s eye.  

“Still pouting, I see. Very well, I’ll indulge you. Please let _________ know that I’ve returned.” 

“Yeah, I will!” Prompto watched as Ignis brought a small duffel bag into the bathroom with him and closed the door; minutes later, he heard the shower turn on. Prompto shrugged on the cleanest pair of jeans and shirt that he had, emptying his suitcase of everything else in hopes of getting to the laundromat across town at some point during the weekend. He crawled back on the bed and planted a small kiss on your lips. You stirred slightly, and Prompto leaned sideways to whisper in your ear.  

“Hey baby,” Prompto whispered, breath tingling your warm skin. “Iggy’s back. He says he needs you. You wanna make him his coffee how he likes it?” 

You slowly blinked open one eye and smiled lazily at your husband. “Mmmmmmm. Mornin’ Prom.” 

“Good morning beautiful.” Prompto sighed and stroked your hair.  

“Iggy’s back, you said? I’ll make breakfast. He okay?” 

“Kinda. He said he thinks he pulled a hamstring? Wanted you to look at it.” 

“Oooooh, I get the pleasure of looking at his bare legs. Nice.” 

Prompto laughed big and loud as he left the bed. “Yeah, lucky you.” 

“Oh c’mon. Like  _you_ haven’t looked at him,” you teased.  

“Never said I haven’t,” Prompto said, sticking out his tongue, eyes crinkling with amusement.  

 

You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of bed, quickly dressing and going into the kitchenette to start breakfast. You prepared the coffee in an old Altissian fashion, with a pour-over machine that you’d paid a pretty penny for at the market last year—but the look on Ignis’ face when you told him you’d found one was priceless and you’d do it again in a heartbeat. While the coffee was steeping, you made quick work of some eggs and vegetables for a large omelet to split between the three of you. Prompto wandered in halfway through the meal, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your plush stomach and resting his head on your shoulder while you folded over half of the egg and flipped it expertly.  

Both of you registered movement behind you, and Prompto broke away first to sidle up right beside Ignis and grab his hand.  

“My beautiful wife made an omelet, Igster! And the pour-over coffee you like so much.” 

“You are truly a treasure in these trying times, darling,” Ignis said in your direction. “And you’ve spared us burnt toast and charred coffee. Delightful.” 

“That was  _one_ time!” Prompto whined as he pulled Ignis into the kitchen. The taller man chuckled as he felt his way to the cabinet beside you for a mug.  

“It’s almost done, Iggy. Then I can take a look at your leg.” 

“Brilliant. Breakfast smells divine, by the way.” 

Your face flushed involuntarily. “You’re too much, Ignis. It’s just an omelet.” 

“Ah, perhaps so, but the hands that prepared it...” His voice trailed as he laid a bare hand on your shoulder, and you shuddered under his touch.  _Does he always have to be so overwhelmingly polite and suave_ _?_ “You are just as remarkable as ever. We are all lucky to have you in charge here,” Ignis whispered low and hot.  

“Hey, quit flirting and drink your coffee, bro,” Prompto huffed.  

You rolled your eyes. “Oh hush. Here, now, it’s done. Prom, will you pour me a cup?” You dug plates and silverware from the drawers on the other side of the stove and divided up the meal. The three of you ate in relative silence, and you left Prompto to clean up the kitchen as you and Ignis walked back into the bedroom.  

Ignis sat on the opposite bed from where you and Prompto had slept and rubbed his eyes, fingers lingering on the scar for several seconds before he dropped his hand. You sat on the bed next to him and put your arm around his shoulder.  

“Does it hurt, Iggy?” 

“No.” 

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

Ignis sniffed and stiffened slightly. “I’m quite fine, _________. Only my leg is bothering me, that’s all.” 

“Well, there’s no way to do this that’s not embarrassing, so...” You rose. “Gonna need to see your bare leg, Ignis.” 

Ignis nodded once and stood, dropping his dark dress pants and suspenders to his ankles, and stepped out of them, slowly. You plucked them from the floor and folded them as Ignis laid down horizontally on the bed, with his head pointed towards the footboard. “Left thigh, darling,” Ignis said quietly as he patted his leg and folded his hands on his chest.  

Prompto wandered into the bedroom and blushed slightly at the sight of Ignis in just a button-up and tight boxer-briefs. He sat on your bed and plugged his phone into the charger, quickly typing out messages to other hunters, letting them know he—and Ignis—were back safely.  

You knelt on the bed beside Ignis and gently placed your hands on his upper thigh, and felt towards the back, lifting his leg up slightly—the muscle was definitely taught and knotted. You watched his face as mild discomfort rippled over his features.  

“You definitely got something, here, Iggy. I’m going to massage it out then cure it, okay? So it won’t be as stiff.” 

“Wonderful. Thank you.”  

For some reason you couldn’t place, Ignis’ voice seemed a little sad. You shrugged it off for the time being, though, instead focusing on digging your hands into the muscle of the adviser’s thigh. Ignis let out breathy moans and exhales of relief as you worked over his skin. After about twenty minutes of massaging, you gripped Ignis’ upper leg firmly in your hands and squeezed, allowing your magic to seep deep into the adviser’s skin.  

It was then that Ignis let out the most sinful sound you’d ever heard him make, and your head snapped up in surprise. You quickly turned to Prompto, who’d dropped his phone and was staring at Ignis with a prominent blush on his cheeks. You turned back to the man on the bed.  

“Hey, Iggy, you okay?” You slowly brought your hands away from his leg and dropped them into your lap.  

“Forgive me,” Ignis said. “It has been quite some time since I have been touched so intimately.” 

“Ah, no need to be embarrassed! I’m happy to help. Are you feeling better?” 

Ignis pushed himself up from the bed and stood, walking a few feet back and forth.  

“I do believe my leg works better than it ever did before.” He turned his head in your direction, glassy eyes unfocused.  

“Great!” You hopped up, probably looking a little too long at his undressed form, and grabbed his pants, handing them to Prompto. “Help Iggy if he needs it, will you? Gonna go wash my hands.” You walked quickly to the bathroom, willing the blush on your cheeks to go away.  _I’m married, dammit. I shouldn’t be letting him affect me like this._ You heard quiet murmuring from outside of the door, and when you came back to a much more presentable Ignis, Prompto was standing next to him, fidgeting and biting his lip.  

“Hey, uh. Is everything okay with you two?” 

Ignis coughed and adjusted his gloves. “We’re perfectly well, _________.’ He dug his dark glasses from his blazer pocket and slid them on. “I think I’ll go browse what the markets have to offer. I’ll join the two of you later for lunch, perhaps?” 

You smiled at him, hoping that in some way, he could sense the expression on your face. “Sounds great, Iggy! I would join you, but I have some things to finish up here.” 

Ignis smiled and nodded, then turned to the desk where he’d laid his cane a few hours ago. As he made his way to the door, Prompto exploded with nervous energy. 

“Wait! Iggy, wait, please.” 

Confused, you looked to Prompto’s pained expression, then at Ignis, who had stopped, hand on the antique doorknob. “What’s...Prompto, what’s wrong?”  

You heard Ignis sigh deeply. “Drop it, Prompto. It’s nothing.” 

“Wanting to kiss _________ isn’t nothing!” 

You felt your face get hot and your heart began to slam against your ribcage. “Prompto...what...what are you talking about?” 

Prompto grabbed your shoulders and stared deeply into your eyes. You felt hot under his gaze, letting your eyes flick back to Ignis at the door—the adviser hadn’t moved. You looked back at Prompto.  

“I said it was okay, if you wanted to of course, I mean, we’re all friends, right? It wouldn’t  _mean_ anything, right?” 

“Prompto. What are you saying?” 

“Iggy wanted to kiss you. And-and so...he asked me if he could. And I said yes.” 

“Wait...what? Why does...” You snapped your head back to Ignis, who was still standing at the door. He hadn’t moved, he hadn’t said a word. “Ignis,” you called. “Come here.”  

Slowly, Ignis turned from the door and walked back over to you and Prompto. His lips were pressed into a hard line, jaw set firmly. His hand was gripping his cane, and he was shaking, as though he was absolutely terrified.  

“Why?” you whispered. “I mean...why me, of all people, Iggy? I mean...you remember what I look like, right?” 

“___________,” Ignis choked. “You are perhaps one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, knowing, and befriending. The past three years have not been easy on anyone, but particularly for me, times have been even more difficult. You have stood by my side, never once wavering or complaining, assisting me even when I was being a downright selfish arse about needing a helping hand. You’ve single-handedly saved my life and the lives of countless others during our collective time here in Lestallum. I am so incredibly proud of you, words can barely express it. I have watched you grow from a nervous young teenager into the finest Crownsguard that anyone could ever ask for. Your cooking is wonderful, your sewing skills are top-notch, your medical knowledge could rival the best surgeons we had in Insomnia.” Ignis was openly weeping, soft tears falling from beneath his glasses. “You brought such a joy to Noct’s life during his high school years—and by extension, mine. There wasn’t a day that went by when we didn’t speak of you when you weren’t around. Your love and friendship have been invaluable to me.” 

You sniffed back tears at Ignis’ words. “But...but why...” 

Ignis sighed heavily. “I find myself craving more and more physical intimacy during these long, dangerous nights. I must apologize if any of my behavior has offended you or made you uncomfortable. You are quite easy to love.” 

“Oh, you mean, like, when we sit on the couch and you put your head on my shoulder? Stuff like that?” You looked at Prompto. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me.” 

Prompto shook his head vigorously. “No, not at all, Iggy. I get wanting a comforting touch.” 

“And ___________ is one of the only ones I trust to provide it. I find myself...well, perhaps  _yearning_ would be the appropriate term.” He cocked his head in Prompto’s direction. “You’re sure? I have no desire to put a strain on your relationship.” 

You shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about kissing all of you before,” you chuckled, cheeks growing hot again.  

Prompto let out a small gasp. “You’re...you’re serious.?” 

You turned to him. “Prompto. What do you think it was like for me back then, being surrounded by four gorgeous men almost daily? You think that was easy for me? I was like, dying on the regular. Especially around you.” 

“And you chose me out of the four of us,” Prompto breathed, unbelieving. “I need to sit down and process this.” 

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve been married for three years.” 

“I know,” Prompto whined adorably as he sat on the bed. “ _Wow_.” 

Ignis brought his one free hand up and hovered it next to your face; you grabbed it and brought it to your cheek, reveling in the warm leather that was covering his palm.  

“I love you so much, Ignis,” you said. “If I can help ease the yearning in your heart, I’m here for you.” 

“Wait, I wanna watch.” Prompto stood and moved beside you.  

“Are you certain?” Ignis said again, voice cracking.  

“Uh, two of my best friends, two of the hottest people I’ve ever seen, one of whom I’m married to, kissing each other for comfort? That’s like...hoo boy. That’s some hotness I don’t wanna miss out on.” 

“Gods, you’re such a dork,” you laughed as you snaked one hand behind Ignis’ neck and made him bend down to you. “Ready, Iggy?” 

“Yes, darling.” 

Ignis parted his mouth slightly and kept his head still as you brought your lips to his.  

It wasn’t long—ten seconds, maybe; gentle movement, not too forceful; flickers of tongue and soft wet presses. You pulled away first, not wanting to get lost in him, fiddling with the ring on your left hand. Ignis hesitated for a moment but then stood back up to his full height and dropped his hand from your face.  

“Was...was that okay? Are you okay?” 

Ignis, face flustered and lip quivering, cleared his throat and allowed himself a soft smile. “Prompto...is a  _very_ lucky man.” 

“Oh buddy, I know it,” your husband quipped, clapping Ignis on the shoulder. “Don’t stress over this, Igs. Seriously.” 

“Really, Iggy. I’m glad I can be a comfort to you. Not only this, I mean, but like, everything else. I do the best I can.” 

“You do more than enough for me—for all of us.” He turned and made his way to the door. “I’m going to explore the markets. I’m itching to cook something.” 

You and Prompto watched Ignis leave, and as soon as the door clicked shut, Prompto was devouring your mouth like it was his last day alive. After several breathless minutes of making out, he pulled away.  

“Holy shit,” he said.  

“What?” 

“That, uh. That shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Thought you would’ve been super jealous.” You paused. “You’re not mad at me, are you? Like, legitimately. You’re not mad?” 

“I’m not mad.” Prompto shook his head. “I feel bad that Ignis doesn’t have anyone like I have you. Like we’re all best friends, so he has  _us_ , I get that, but y’know. A romantic someone.” 

You sighed. “Yeah. Ignis is incredible. Anyone would be more than lucky to be his partner.”  

“Is it true, what you said?” 

“What, about me wanting to kiss all of you?” You laughed. “Dude. My biggest crush was, and always will be,  _you_. But yeah, I’ve always kind of been a little in love with all of y’all.” You shrugged. “But I wouldn’t change what we have now, for anything. You’re the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you so much, Prompto.” 

Prompto smiled one of his heart-stopping smiles. “I love you too, __________.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN THIS ALMOST ENDED IN A THREESOME, I WAS SO FUCKIN' CLOSE MAN


	21. Power Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking SWEAR I haven't abandoned this. I promise. Things have just been really hard lately, and I'm so fucking sorry. I'm trying my best. ;-;  
> _____
> 
> This chapter was really fucking hard to write because I just had to look up everything, and I'm working through major writer's block right now. Again, I'm so fucking sorry.

 

 _Sylleblossoms_ _?_ You knew the scent even before you opened your eyes. You shot up suddenly, confused as to why you found yourself sleeping on dirt and grass in the middle of a field of the exotic blue flowers. Everything was hazy around the edges—even after wiping your eyes, rubbing them hard, and blinking into the not-quite-daylight of your surroundings, things were still blurry, birds overhead seeming to fly in slow motion, bees taking eons to flit from flower to flower.  

 _I’m dreaming._ Though you’d never been in any open field like this in your life, something about it felt familiar. Moreover, it was almost as though you could feel a familiar presence as well...you stood up, and far-off in the distance, an unmistakable black-clad figure was standing still in the hazy horizon. A scream ripped from your throat in a mixture of relief and agony. “ _Noctis!”_   

 

Noctis turned, after what felt like hours of running through thick molasses. The prince looked just like you remembered him, only a little thinner, hair a little longer, the beginnings of black stubble showing on his still-boyish face. You crashed into him, gripping him tighter than anyone you’ve ever held onto in your life—family and Prompto included—and sobbed into his chest. He brought his arms up around your back and held you as you cried into him, stroking your head and back until you calmed down, which seemed like forever and a day. Eventually you willed yourself to pull away from him and look at his face, memorizing its differences. He brought a hand to the side of your face and caressed it, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming.  

“Hey,” he whispered, voice low and raspy, as though he hadn’t spoken in a very long time—and you realized that he probably hadn’t.  

“How are you—I mean—I'm dreaming, right?” 

Noctis nodded. “Yes. I’ve asked Bahamut to allow me to talk to you.” 

“You’re still in the crystal?” 

Noctis nodded. “How is everyone? How long...how long has it been?” 

You shifted your eyes down, then back up to him. “We’re truckin’ along, I guess. I’m basically running a hospital and an armory out of our old Leville suite. Ignis is pretty independent now; the guys are usually away on hunts or bringing refugees to safety, Iris and Aranea too. I do all the behind-the-scenes stuff. But I mean...I’m thinking of getting back out there. I know they could use all the help they can get.” 

Noctis nodded again, small smirk forming on his lips. “Still not that confident after all these years, huh?”  

“It’s been hard. The gods have been silent. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. You’ve been gone for almost four years, Noct, and we don’t know when you’re coming back. It’s so dark, and so hard without you. We feel like we’re barely hanging on.” You sniff back more tears, bringing your hand to cover Noct’s. His palm was warm and comforting on your cheek.  

“Four years,” the king breathed. “It seems like...like minutes. From Zegnautus.” 

“When Bahamut threw me out, it’d been weeks. Prompto was beside himself when I emerged.” 

Noct’s eyes twinkled. “You two still good?” 

You blushed and smiled. “We, uh, yeah. We’re good.”  _Should I tell him about...?_ “So uh, about that...we’ve kind of let Ignis in on a few...intimate moments.”  

Noctis froze, face going through a myriad of emotions at once. “Wait...you don’t mean...” 

You cleared your throat and looked away, embarrassed. “More than a handful of threesomes,” you whispered. “He’s been so touch-starved, Prompto and I just couldn’t let him continue to suffer alone.” 

Noctis blushed hard and gave a small cough. “Well, uh, that’s...unexpected. But...thanks for taking care of him.” A moment of silence, then, quietly, “You’re even prettier than I remember.” 

You shook your head furiously. “Don’t--I’m not—”

Noctis brought his hand from your cheek and gripped your plush chin lightly between his fingers and tilted your head to the side, placing a warm kiss on your cheek. “Hey,” Noctis said, holding you hostage in his intense blue-eyed gaze. “Don’t argue with the king, all right?” 

You felt your cheeks grow hotter by the second, but you simply nodded as he released your chin. He held your gaze as he continued. “My medic, my Crownsguard. I’m so proud of you. I’ve called you here to give you this.” Noctis lifted his left hand—on his ring finger, where a wedding ring would’ve been in a different universe, was the Ring of the Lucii—the same ring that held the power of the scores of rulers of Lucis, the same ring that had cost Ignis his eyesight.  

Your eyes widened as Noctis slipped the ring from his finger—you noticed the slight scorch marks on his skin when he was free of it.  

“Noct,” you whispered, terrified. “I--I can’t. I’m not of your bloodline, I don’t know what the gods will ask of me...” 

“They won’t ask you anything. I’ve already interceded for you. I want you to have this, to fight the daemons and to help keep everyone safe, until I come back. You remember what Bahamut said—Shiva picked you. You’re supposed to be the Light until I get back. You’re powerful on your own, but this will help you do so much more. Don’t worry. I’ll meet you again in your dreams when it’s time for me to take it back.” Noct grinned and reached for your right hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.  

You cried out in sudden pain and dropped to your knees as the raw, unchecked power of the kings flowed through your body. Noctis was on you in an instant, gripping you tightly and holding you through the worst of it. The dreamy air crackled with magic, and you felt your body become hotter than it’d ever felt before. Finally, the pain subsided into a dull ache, and the pressure on your chest lessened, allowing your breathing to return to normal. You looked up at Noctis.  

“Is it...does it always feel like this?” 

Noctis nodded softly and carded his hands through your hair. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It hurt for me too. But this is the best thing for now. It’s all I can do for you...all of you...until I’m back.” 

You nodded weakly, leaning into Noct’s tender touch.  

“Oh, and another thing,” the king was saying as he helped you to stand. “Pryna and Umbra are going to be with you too. And Carbuncle.” And as if on cue, the supernatural dogs came trotting along through the field of flowers; and on your shoulders, the furry blue foxlike creature materialized, cooing softly and nuzzling your cheek.  

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to contact you. But go with my blessing, and the blessing of the Astrals.” 

He sounded so much like an actual king, it was ridiculous. Shaking with emotion, you dropped to one knee, Carbuncle moving to stand on your back as you bowed in fealty to your king and best friend.  

“C’mon, no need for all that. You know I hate it.” 

You stood and embraced him again, the little blue animal finally hopping to the ground to wait patiently beside the two dogs. “You’re my best friend, Noct. But I’ll never forget who you really are.” You stepped back. “My whole life has been about you. You’re the reason I’m anything of value at all.” 

Noctis shook his head. “I’d still be your friend even if there was nothing magical about you. That’s not important to me, never has been. I never placed your value on how well you could fight for me. You’re my  _friend._ ” 

You wiped the big ugly tears that had started to fall again. “We miss you  _so much,_ Noct. It’s...me and Prompto...it’s been so fucking hard. And...and they don’t know...the rest of the prophecy...” You look up into his eyes, pleading. “I’ll never be ready to let you go,” you whispered. “I’m never going to forgive the gods. Ever.” 

Noctis brought his hand to your face again, thumbing the tears from your cheek. “It has to be done. To cleanse our star,” he murmured. 

“Why can’t they take  _me_? I’ll gladly go in your place. What are we supposed to do after the light comes back and you’re  _gone_?” 

Noctis shrugged. “Then the line of the Lucii will have ended, and the people will have a new leader. And hopefully, Lucis and Niflheim, and the rest of the world, can live in peace.” 

“It’s not fair,” you sobbed again, and Noctis took both of your hands in his and kissed your knuckles.  

“Wait for me.” 

“Always, Noct...”  

Noctis smiled and he began to fade away, body becoming more and more transparent until he was completely gone. Suddenly, the ground dropped from under your feet, and you were falling, falling...until you jolted awake in the hotel room, Prompto snoozing peacefully next to you. Even in the stark darkness of the room, you could make out the pile of furry animals at the foot of the bed—you wiggled your toes, and suddenly three pairs of eyes were glowing at you. You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand—it was nearly 7 am. “Prompto!” you said, shaking your husband awake. “Wake up!” 

“Wah--!” Prompto sat up in a flash, and one of his guns was out of the Armiger and in his hand in an instant. “What’s wrong?” 

You glanced at your right ring finger in almost disbelief, touching the ring with a sort of terrified reverence. Your hand felt heavier than normal.  

Prompto let his weapon dematerialize and leaned over to turn on the light. When he turned back, he froze, eyeing the dogs and Carbuncle on the foot of the bed, lounging together in a big, furry pile. His jaw dropped softly, and around sputtering words of  _How_ and  _Why_ his eyes eventually wander down to your hands...and the piece of jewelry that wasn’t there before.  

“___________,” Prompto whispered. “That’s...that’s...” 

You gulped and nodded, facing him at last. “Noctis met me in a dream, Prom. He gave me the ring, and--” you gestured to the animals-- “and he said that Umbra and Pryna and Carbuncle were going to stay with me. It’s time...it’s time I started going out with all of you.” 

“I...” Tears flooded Prompto’s eyes instantly. “You saw Noct? Was he...is he okay?” 

You nodded, bringing your hand to cup Prompto’s face, heart clenching as he leaned into your touch. “He’s fine. A little skinnier, patchy facial stubble, hair’s grown out a bit. But it’s him.” 

“And he...he trusted you with the...does it hurt to use it?” Prompto decided finally.  

“It hurt a lot to put on. No telling what the effects of using it are gonna be. But I have to. I have to help.” 

Prompto nodded again, turning out of your touch and looking back to your new furry companions. “Pryna,” he sighed happily. “Tiny! Come here, girl.” He patted the covers, and the fluffy white dog shifted out from under her brother and crawled into Prompto’s lap, and he scratched and petted her happily, cooing and almost in tears with joy.  

 

Over the next several weeks, you and Prompto found a decently-sized two-bedroom apartment across town from the Leville, and while the hotel manager was still more than happy to leave the suite open as a refuge for wandering hunters, it was nice to finally have a place that you and Prompto could call your own. You outfitted the second bedroom with a queen bed for Iggy and Gladio, whenever they needed a place to stay; and you spent a long time browsing Lestallum’s markets for furniture and decorations that suited your and Prompto’s simple tastes. Finally, two months later, when a Monday morning approached, you suited up and packed supplies, locking up the apartment tight and turning on the old security system that had come with it. You gathered Carbuncle in your arms and grabbed two of the four bags that you and Prompto had packed. Calling to Umbra and Pryna, you followed your husband out of the city proper and to the beat-up truck that he’d hotwired into working so many years ago. You sighed, fidgeting with the Ring of the Lucii as you slid into the front seat next to Prompto. It was time to join the hunters. It was time to make Noctis proud.

 

___________ 

 

The first time you, Gladio, Prompto, and Ignis fought together to take out four iron giants in the Pitioss Ruins was your first attempt at using the Ring. Even though Ignis was deadlier now than ever before with his daggers, and Prompto and Gladio had developed a definite tag-team thing, fighting  _four_ of the giants—who were stronger and more vicious because of the Starscourge—was much different than when the five of you had ganged up on one before the darkness had fallen. The four of you had only managed to fell one of the beasts before Gladio was knocked off of his feet—and on instinct, you immediately warped behind him and caught him, helping him to his feet before he was flung headfirst into a tree. The second giant that had knocked the shield to the edge of the battlefield followed the streaking blue light and was steadily gaining ground as you made sure Gladio was all right.  

“Hang in there, big guy!” you said through shaky breaths. You’d practiced warping before, when the four of you had set up camp a few days ago at a nearby haven—you couldn’t warp-strike like Noct, with a weapon, but the Ring allowed you to point-warp, which was still incredibly useful, considering you weren’t as fast as the guys were.  

Gladio readied his sword again, staring down the giant that was barreling toward the two of you. “You’re gettin' the hang of that, sweetheart. Thanks.”

“No problem,” you huffed, quickly glancing to Prompto and Ignis in the distance, still skirting around the other two giants. “Can you take him? Or do I need to stay here?” 

Gladio’s eyes flicked to your right hand. “Be careful with that thing. I know you’re the exception to the blood sacrifice rule, but that don’t mean that scarring or premature aging is out of the picture for you.” 

You nodded, gulping with fear as the giant roared and swung his sword.  

“Remember, they’re resistant to Death,” said Gladio. “You’ll have to use one of the other attacks. But go help Blondie and Iggy. I’ve got this one.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“No matter how good he’s gotten, Iggy still has a handicap. Better odds with two against three. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

You chuckled a little. “If you’re sure, Gladio. Be careful. I’ll come back for you.” You focused your energy and warped past the approaching monster to where Prompto and Ignis were handling the other two giants. You landed close behind Prompto, not wanting to startle Ignis, who was a couple of hundred feet away. “Hey!” 

Prompto braced himself against a nearby boulder, fired off several rounds from his auto crossbow, making the iron giant stagger back, and turned to you. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! But Gladio was about to get really intimate with that tree. I caught him just in time.” You looked up just as the iron giant was regaining his composure and lumbering towards you and Prompto. “Why don’t you go help Iggy? I’m going to try something.” 

Prompto frowned. “Not a chance. I’m not leaving you alone with one of these things.” 

“It’s fine. I can do this, or at least...I think I can. Noct thinks I can do it. I have to try.” 

Prompto’s tired blue eyes flicked to the Ring and back to your face. “I don’t like this. I remember how it affected Noct. You’re not of royal blood—I don’t want you to like, lose a body part or something.” Prompto pulled more ammunition from the Armiger and reloaded, firing off the crossbow again—and in the distance, you heard an unmistakable pained noise from Ignis.  

“Fuck!” You strained to see in the dim light of the little bulb that was attached to your jacket.  

Prompto’s eyes darted sideways to where Ignis had fallen on the ground, too close to where the third iron giant was rampaging. “Go to Iggy! I got this one. He’s on his last legs, I promise.” 

You nodded and stood, pressing a quick kiss to Prompto’s hair before point-warping between Ignis and the giant.  

“Ignis! I’m at your twelve o’clock! Do you need a potion?” 

Ignis grunted and hauled himself to his feet, head turning in the direction of your voice. “No, darling—I'm all right.” 

You stretched out a hand. “Come here—let me help you, anyway. But don’t attack—I'm going to use the Ring. Stay behind me.”  

Ignis opened his mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it; he merely nodded and inched forward until he felt your hand. He gripped your left hand tightly in his own, sighing in relief as you allowed your healing magic to flow to him, restoring his strength and vitality. Of all of the guys, he was at first the most vocal to protest your use of the Ring of the Lucii, despite hearing that Noct had interceded and assured you that there would be no blood price for its use. The two of you had had your first real knock-down-drag-out argument over it, but in the end, Ignis had quietly relented, accepting that you had the Astrals’ favor and were the chosen Light until Noct’s appointed return. It was still a touchy subject—you knew he cared deeply for you and just wanted you safe. 

You raised your right hand and closed your eyes exhaling slowly. When you opened them, you focused on channeling the sacred, divine magic of the ancient rulers of Lucis whose souls were embedded in the ring.  _Astrals_ _, Kings of Lucis,_ you prayed.  _Lend me your Holy power._  

Just as the iron giant brought his sword down towards you and Ignis, the spell ripped out of you—and if it weren’t for Ignis holding you upright, you were certain that you would’ve fallen to your knees. The Ring burned, and you watched with concern as the skin of your outstretched right hand crackled and turned a violent shade of purple with its use. But the iron giant roared in protest as it was consumed in white light, and you held the spell until the giant gave its swan song and dissolved into darkness.  

“Sounds like you gave it the what-for,” murmured Ignis as he drew you in close.  

You sighed heavily into his chest and sniffed, wiggling your arm, which was still tingling. You stepped away from him and saw that both Prompto and Gladio had managed to fell their giants as well, so you stood still as they came over to you and Ignis.  

“Everyone, come here.” 

Prompto frowned as he stepped closer to you, grabbing your arm and examining the fading purple lines on your hand and wrist. “I don’t like this.” 

“I’m fine. The pain fades after a few seconds, promise. It’ll probably be better in the morning.” 

Ignis sucked in a sharp breath. “Is she scarred?” 

“No Ignis, I’m— _ugh,_ y’all! Just come here.” You grabbed both  Prompto  and  Gladio  by the shirt and brought them in close, healing everyone as best as you could manage with the strength you had left. You sighed heavily after they all stepped away.  _It’s definitely time for an elixir_. Smiling shyly, you brought one hand up to Prompto’s dirty face and pulled him in for a quick kiss, which he was all  to  eager to melt into. “Hey,” you said as you pulled away, opening your eyes to gaze at your husband. “I’m  _fine_.” 

Prompto nodded but still didn’t look convinced—but you were too tired to argue further, so you let him carry you piggy-back style as the four of you wearily made your way back to the haven.  

 

While little about camping had changed, some important things had, other than the obvious lack of a certain king—namely, the fact that you and Prompto had your own tent, and had elected to pitch it across the haven from the old original tent that Gladio and Ignis shared. You were married after all, and even though you’d invited Ignis to sometimes share in your intimacy, you figured that doing so with Gladio in close proximity wasn’t the best display of tact. 

After you and Ignis had prepared that night’s meal, you’d hugged the other guys good night, and wearily crawled into your tent, followed by Prompto.  

The blond was on top of you the instant he turned around from zipping up the tent, pinning you on top of your sleeping bag and the modest bedroll you had underneath it for extra support. Your wiggled happily as Prompto pinned both of your wrists above your head, leaving one hand free to dip under the hem of your jacket and shirt.  

You moaned loudly as soon as Prompto’s gloved hand grazed your skin. His fingertips had become more calloused over the years, but that did nothing to detract from the electricity that coursed through your veins when he touched you. 

He darted down to catch your moan in a rough, open-mouthed kiss as he hungrily pushed his tongue into your mouth and started to explore. Prompto shifted and moved to straddle one of your thick thighs—he was half hard already, and he ground down, a deep, primal growl coming from low in his throat as he sought out friction.  

You gasped and pulled away, turning your head to the side to breathe. It was often like this, after intense daemon battles—emotions and adrenaline running so high that fucking was almost the only way to keep everything in check. Prompto wasted no time in diving back down to your body, pressing his hot mouth to the side of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a bruise.  

“ _Prompto_ ,” you moaned as he sucked into your neck hungrily.  

He pulled away and gripped your chin in his hands and forced your to look at him. “That’s right, baby. Say my name. Tell me who owns you.” 

You shivered—he was in one of  _those_ moods, and it excited you. Over the years, the two of you had played with almost every dynamic in the book, even when you were sharing each other with Ignis—but ultimately, you loved it when Prompto was super dominate and totally in control. You were all too eager to submit to him—it vindicated all of your school girl dreams and then some. 

“Fuck, Prompto. Take me. I’m yours. Please, baby.” 

Prompto made a low noise of want and didn’t even bother taking his gloves off as he brought his free hand down to the waistband of your jeans and unfastened them with practiced ease, slipping his hand beneath your pants and underwear in one fluid motion, fingers curling into your dripping core.  

You screamed and bucked into his hand as his grip on both of your wrists tightened. It was second nature at this point; Prompto knew exactly how to get your body to do whatever he wanted. He was relentless, pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping sex while holding you steady—all you could do was roll your hips and arch your back as you cried out in ecstasy.  

“It was so fucking hot, watching you fight,” Prompto was saying, voice low with arousal as he continued to bring you closer and closer to the edge. “You have no idea how proud I am of you. You’re so damn sexy, it’s unreal. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?” 

You cried out as Prompto’s thumb began to rub down on your clit while he had two fingers deep inside of you. “Fuck, Prompto, all yours, baby,” you managed to gasp. Tears were steadily falling from your eyes, then, as the adrenaline and the emotions from the day’s battles, combined with Prompto’s ministrations on your body, melded together. “Prom, I can’t...that’s it baby, just a little more...” 

Prompto withdrew his fingers, right at that moment, drawing a pained whine from your lips. He finally released your hands as he busied himself with removing all of your clothes, and then his own. Prompto had definitely filled out over the last few years, muscles becoming bulkier, face turning from boyishly cute into ruggedly handsome. He was finally strong enough to lift you on his own—his life’s goal, as he had often joked. You never got tired of looking at his body, whether skinny lean muscle or a more healthy, bulkier weight.  

Once he was naked—and your eyes almost immediately went down to the gorgeous thick cock hanging hot and heavy between his legs—he returned to the space between your thighs, inserting his fingers inside of you again, putting you once more on the path to an earth-shattering orgasm.  

“ _Prompto_ ,” you whined high and loud, not even caring if Ignis and Gladio heard you from across the haven. “Please, baby.” 

“Please what?” Prompto teased.  

“Let me come, fuck, I need it, I need  _you_...” Your rolled your hips and flexed your muscles in tandem with his fingers. After just a few minutes, you felt your release building again—you gasped as you urged your husband to move faster.  

“That’s it, ___________,” Prompto encouraged. “Let go for me. Give it to me, please.” 

“Oh fuck, Prompto, I’m... _gods!”_ You arched your back high and cried out loudly as you gushed around his fingers, slick dripping down to the sleeping bag below as Prompto kept his fingers inside of you and milked your pussy until you were an oversensitive, writhing mess.  

 

When he finally withdrew his fingers and allowed you to come down from your high, he grabbed your legs and positioned your ankles over his freckled shoulders and grabbed the base of his cock, using your juices to stroke himself to full hardness as he teased your sensitive entrance.  

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Prompto murmured, all wound-up sex appeal and dripping confidence.  

“Fuck, Prompto,  _please_ , baby. I need you. I need your cock.” You wiped the tears from your eyes and cracked them open halfway, the dim lantern light casting dancing shadows over his striking features. “I’ve needed you since I was a girl, Prompto. Please, give yourself to me again.”  

A hundred emotions played over Prompto’s worn, freckled features as you brought up the nostalgia of the two of you from long ago, being high school best friends and dancing around each other, teetering on the precipice of intimacy but never taking the leap. “ _Fuck,”_ he growled as he pushed himself into your entrance and bottomed out on the first thrust, burying himself in your wet heat.  

Your arched into him, scrambling to take all of him in, shuddering in pleasure at the welcome intrusion. “You always feel so fucking good, Prompto, I...” 

“Shit,” Prompto cried as he began to roll his hips, leaning down. He brought one of your legs from his shoulder to wrap around his waist.  

You immediately dug your heel into his lower back and urged him to go deeper, crying out as he began to thrust with purpose.  

“I love you so much,” Prompto was crying, a little bit of the dominance slipping to tender, passionate feelings. “I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you, no one else. I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” Prompto leaned down to catch you in a filthy kiss as he fucked into you hard and fast.  

 

“Fuck, ____________, I’m so close to coming again,” Prompto was half-screaming as his hips continued to pound against yours.  

You’d lost all track of time of how long Prompto had been claiming you. He’d already come once, but he’d been blessed with stamina for days, so he often took you at least twice before he was spent. Tonight was one of those nights where he was insatiable. After he’d come the first time, he’d pulled out and buried his face between your thighs, swallowing your earlier juices and what he’d just spilled into you as his tongue quickly brought you to a second release that was much more powerful than your first. And now he was back on top of you, buried again to the hilt in your warm, dripping cunt.  

It was all you could do to wrap your legs around Prompto’s waist and rub your hands up and down his arms in encouragement as you kept up with his ever-steady rhythm. “Prompto, baby, please. Give it to me again, fill me up...” 

“Fucking...Astrals,  _shit,_ ____________! You’re so fucking good!” Prompto cried as he felt himself spilling into you for the second time. He collapsed on top of you a minute later as he felt himself going soft, nuzzling his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder.  

You held him flush against you, relishing in the feel of his hard muscles against your soft fat. You stroked his hair, which earned your soft exhales and lazy kisses on the top of your shoulder.  

“Hey,” you mumbled, half-asleep and delirious with pleasure. “You good?” 

“Mmmmmmmmm,” answered Prompto. “Very good. The goodest” 

“That’s not a word,” you laughed as you gripped Prompto hard and rolled him to the side.  

“Ugh, treason! Help help, I’ve been displaced!” Prompto flopped on his back and sighed heavily. “You wound me.” 

“Oh shut up, I just fucked the shit out of you,” you teased, slugging him on the shoulder. “C’mon, we should go to bed. It’s late.” 

“Wow, I didn’t realize I just had sex with Ignis again.” 

“ _I beg your pardon_ ,” you said in a cheesy accent as you sat up and dove on top of Prompto, tickling him.  

“Ah, no! Shit, gods,  _why?_ ” Prompto screamed as he tried to wiggle out of your grasp.  

“That’s for your smart mouth, you dork!” You laughed as you got up on your knees and dug in your bag for your pjs.  

Prompto laughed and followed suit. The both of you got dressed for bed and killed the lantern, finally plunging your tent into darkness that mirrored the outside world. Prompto cuddled you close as the two of you drifted off to sleep, humming soft lullabies into the long, dangerous night.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, things have been hard lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time. I won't object to a coffee, if you catch my drift. Same username.
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I've Liked You for a While](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396161) by [flopity_flips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flopity_flips/pseuds/flopity_flips)




End file.
